Madly in Love
by Blue Pixie Dust
Summary: When Wendy came back from Neverland and started telling people about her experiences, they all thought she was crazy… literally. Can she convince anyone to believe her? And what if they don't?
1. The PickUp

Title: Madly in Love

Summary: When Wendy came back from Neverland and started telling people about her experiences, they all thought she was crazy… literally. Can she convince anyone to believe her? And what if they don't?

Author's Note: If you really think about it, everything about Peter Pan and Neverland is truly ludicrous! It's all impossible! If someone came and told me things like that happened to them, I'd tell them to get therapy. That's where I got the idea for this fanfic. hehehe!

* * *

"This isn't working, Mary. This is the fourth time," reminded George, and with a great deal of pain. Mary Darling sat with her husband, holding his hand and squeezing it every once in a while. They had been sitting in the white waiting room for nearly an hour now. Each minute they waited gave them even more time to think about how terribly wrong their decision was to bring their daughter here.

"I know it's not working. And I hate it. Every time we come here I hate it!" cried Mary with tears running down her face. George pulled her into an embrace and kissed her on the head while she cried into his chest miserably. "Why do we keep bringing her here? Wendy doesn't deserve this!"

"What else are we to do? There is something wrong with her!"

"She just tells stories, dear."

"And insists that she was there," George interjected. "She thinks she can fly too. She even talks to her shadow!"

"It's harmless child play."

"Well a seventeen year old lady should not behave as such."

"But is it really necessary to take her to this hospital?" asked Mary.

"We're tried talking to her but she still thinks that some boy is going to come soaring through her window and take her away. We've been given no other choice but to scare some sense into her."

"But this is over doing it, George. Don't you see?" Mary let go of him and looked him in the eye, trying to win over his sympathy for their eldest child.

"I've been backed into a corner. We both have been. This is the only way we can help her now."

"Don't say that. Wendy is not crazy. She doesn't belong here," insisted Mrs. Darling and George gave a defeated sigh. He didn't want to argue with his wife but could she not see reason? Wendy was beyond their help. They needed to get someone else to try to reach her.

"If she doesn't have anymore incidences like last time when she jumped out of the window, trying to kill herself, then she'll never need to come back here again," George concluded and hoped dearly that this visit would never have to be repeated another time.

There was a long silence between the two as they remembered the occurrence from several weeks ago.

_Wendy had been acting rather peculiar recently. She was becoming very quiet and almost anti-social and she would take to locking herself up in her room. She didn't even enjoy spending time with her many brothers. Her brothers would try to get her to let out at least a giggle but with no success. That night, the parents had awoken in the pitch black to hear Wendy's screams. Immediately, they had both rushed into her separate room to see what the matter was, but she was no where in the room. However, the window was open and the freezing winter air was blowing the curtains about. They dashed to the window and looked down. To their horror, Wendy was below them and crying out in pain with one leg twisted an unnatural way. Mrs. Darling nearly had a heart attack when she saw her child sprawled out on the cobblestone road and blood surrounding her. She could not bear to go down and see Wendy so Mr. Darling told her to call the hospital right away while he went down to see her. They had no idea how long she had been out there but she was clad in just her nightdress in wintry weather. She could be sick along with being injured. Mrs. Darling stayed home with the boys and Mr. Darling followed Wendy to get some help. Once the ambulance came and took her to the hospital, they diagnosed her with simply a twisted leg and a slight cold but nothing more physically. Both of them were expected to heal rather swiftly. The doctor had asked what the cause of her injury was and Mr. Darling reported that she had fallen out of the window._

"_Are you sure she didn't jump intentionally?" asked the doctor, putting ideas in Mr. Darling's head. _

"_Wendy is not depressed or anything absurd of the like," replied George and dismissed the idea._

"_Has she been doing any unusual things lately? Acting differently?"_

"_Well… yes. She's been a little less energetic but that doesn't mean-"_

"_Mr. Darling, it is not as though I do not respect your opinion, but it is the opinion of a father. You're **not** going to **want** to think that your daughter may have a problem. But I think she does," said the doctor in a low voice. George Darling had never questioned his own feelings or opinions before, but now that a situation like this was brought before him, he doubted whether or not Wendy was just a regular young lady. Could Wendy be sick in the head?_

_The doctor then suggested that she be sent to Bloomsbury Mental Institute for a six week period. There, she would receive around the clock supervision, therapy sessions, and any medication prescribed to help her. George was very hesitant to send his Wendy to an insane asylum, but she had been to it before, just never as a long-term patient. They had taken her there many times in the past to have her examined and each time, the doctors said that it was nothing that she couldn't help. She had no disease or abnormality of the brain, she was just simply immature. _

_Now this doctor was saying that Wendy should spend weeks there and receive treatment. They no longer thought Wendy was just being silly. They thought she was suicidal. Slowly, Mr. Darling agreed to let her stay there. He knew that he would not be able to look his wife in the eye until she got back, but he had to do this to help Wendy. _

"_Glad to hear you're willing to help the girl. Now, the thing you must know is that the patients may undergo sedation if they get out of hand. Does Wendy have a problem with shots? Because we could give her pills if the time came," said the doctor and clued in George. At that moment, George stopped breathing. He looked at the doctor in shock. _

"They practically tranquilize the patient like animals!"_ he thought and was suddenly very afraid for Wendy. He then said out loud, "Could you repeat that?"_

"_I said they may be given a quick shot to settle them down if they get out of control. But it's only used on extreme circumstances. It's more than likely your little girl will never even have to deal with something like that, but if the situation arises, which should we give her: a shot or a pill?" said the doctor again._

"_Pill, I suppose," responded George shakily. What had he done? _

_He went back home and told the boys that Wendy was to stay in the "hospital" until she got better but she couldn't have any visitors. Then, when the boys were tucked in again that night, he had to confess to Mary what he had decided. _

"_You did **what**!" she exclaimed._

"_It's only for six weeks, dear. And the doctor said it might really help her!"_

"_We've taken her to a psychologist before and they've said that Wendy was fine, dammit! Why the sudden change of mind! That is our only daughter that you've just sent to the loony bin!"_

"_I know, Mary. Calm down. But if you had been there and heard what the doctor told me then you'd understand why I did it. They think that Wendy could be slightly depressed and they also think that tonight's accident was really a suicide attempt."_

"_Wendy was not trying to kill herself! We know her! These doctors **don't**," said Mary and she sat down on the edge of their bed and covered her face with her hands. George went over to her and wrapped on arm around her tenderly and tried to comfort her. _

"_You know I love Wendy and would never do anything that wasn't in her best interest."_

"_I know. I really do know. I just feel like a terrible parent. If it's really true and Wendy was wanting to die, I feel like I should have done more; like I could have done more. I feel so insufficient. And what if it wasn't and she just fell out? Then we'd be sending her to a mental institution for no reason." _

"_Don't worry, dear. We'll have her back in six weeks. And maybe this really will help her."_

Now the time had come when they could bring Wendy back and they waited very anxiously for the receptionist to tell them that they could go see Wendy and take her home.

"George and Mary Darling?" called the woman. The two stood in response to their names and the woman directed them through the doors, down the hall, and outside of room 43 where Wendy resided. They thanked her and she left them to go back to the front desk. They both stood there in front of Wendy's room. The door had one small, square window at eye-level that was just big enough to peek inside the room. What they saw, was a trembling figure dressed in a blank, white dress sitting in the corner with her knees hugged to her chest. There was hair dangling in front of her face but they both knew it was their Wendy. The adults opened the door carefully and slipped inside. Without even looking up to see who the visitor was, Wendy mumbled, "I want to go home. Let me go home."

"We've come to take you back, sweetheart," assured Mrs. Darling and she scurried over to Wendy and kneeled down to look her in the eye. Slowly, Wendy raised her head and gazed sadly at her mother. What Mary saw, in that instant, brought tears to her eyes once more.

There on the floor sat a thin, pale girl with dark circles lining her weary eyes. The hair was greasy and disheveled as well. But it was her eyes that made Wendy look truly miserable. The light that once twinkled and shined in her eyes had extinguished, leaving only blue pools of pain and suffering. Like a soulless and lifeless shell, Wendy looked out from behind thick lashes. Her eyes held not the wonder that they used to, though. The world was no longer amazing. Almost as if she really had lost the will to live, she no longer saw the beautiful fascination that she once saw life as. Any normal mother would feel terrible when they saw this but Mr. Darling could feel her heart break.

"_No mother should have to see this_," she thought. She held out her hand to Wendy and waited for her to take it.

"We're going home now," said Mr. Darling happily, even though he saw the same pain in her eyes. He half forced a smile onto his face to lighten the mood a little. Wendy grabbed her mother's hand and, with her help, stood and the started walking towards the door. She stopped abruptly, though, and turned on her heel. Right away, she rushed to her mother and father and hugged them closely. They did the same in return and they all cried happy tears and smiled genuinely, even Wendy. Especially Wendy.

"I'm going home again," said Wendy in realization. She sighed in joy and let go of the two. All of them walked out of the building while receiving several glances from strangers who were passing them. With Wendy in just the medical dress and slippers (at 6 o'clock in the evening) and her parents leading her by both hands, it didn't take a genius to figure out that the adults had just picked up their child from insane asylum. Yet none of the three seemed to mind the staring. They just hopped into the coach that was waiting outside for them and rode merrily home.

When Wendy walked through the door, all of her brothers (lost boys included) came stampeding down the stairs and tackled her to the ground. And for the first time in months, Wendy laughed. She laughed so hard and so long that she could barely breathe.

"_It feel good to laugh again,"_ she thought and wrestled her brothers off of her.

"I'm so glad you finally came back! I've been so bored without you, Wendy!" said Curly and all of the other boys agreed.

"You look tired. I think you should go to bed early," recommend John and he pushed his glasses a little further up the bridge of his nose.

"I think I just might do that, John. But in a little bit," said the girl and she brought her attention back to her other yakking younger brothers. George and Mary looked at each other and smiled.

* * *

**PLEASE READ!**

A/N: Alright, so for this fanfic, I can either leave it the way it is, since it could work as an ok one-shot, or I can keep going with it (since I do have some more ideas in mind). But I'm not going to continue it unless some people are interested. So review and tell me what you'd like me to do.


	2. Wendy's side

Title: Madly in Love

Summary: When Wendy came back from Neverland and started telling people about her experiences, they all thought she was crazy… literally. Can she convince anyone to believe her? And what if they don't?

Author's Note: I would just like to say: Tara Pan, I love you! I'm so glad you responded saying you'd like more. Please forgive my lateness but I'm still in my lazy summer mode. I have another chapter of this already planned out (and another chapter for my other Peter Pan story hand written) but it's just a matter of typing it up. **_REVIEW!_**

* * *

Nighttime slumber brought not the tranquility Wendy had been craving. She thought that once she was home she could sleep peacefully in her own bed but as soon as she closed her eyes and began to dream, the memories of the past several weeks plagued her mind. She could feel the stone-cold linoleum floor beneath her feet and even hear the nurse's voice scolding her. Everything there felt… blank. The perfectly white walls screamed to be colored. The lifeless patients begged for a purpose. And the endless drawl of a therapist called for something more interesting to do. All of it made her bored.

Wendy's eyes popped open and stared into the dark. She sighed and then turned on her side, trying to get more comfortable again.

"I never want to go back there. That place would make a normal person go insane. Hell would be better.

Wendy silenced her internal thoughts and remembered what happened on that horrible night…

- - - - - - - - - - - Six Weeks Ago - - - - - - - - - -

Five years… It had been five years since Wendy had seen any sign of Peter. She hadn't even seen him peeking in from outside the window when she would tell the boys stories. Still, she waited relentlessly and would almost always leave the window open in hopes of his return. That particular March night, she was sitting at her open window as she gazed at the sky, hoping to catch a glimpse of a shadow lurking amongst the stars.

A forlorn frown spread across her face after nearly two hours of watching. She rubbed her arms and shivered as a gust of wind blew in. She wrapped the sheet from her bed around her shoulders, and thought idly, _"It will be spring soon."_

The longer time went on, the more anxious she was to find her hero. It'd been too long. Did he even remember her?

"Peter, have you abandoned me?" whispered Wendy as her eyes brimmed with tears of disappointment.

She had been missing her Pan more than ever now. When the option of never growing up had been laid before her, she rejected it with every part of her being. She knew that there had to be more to life than playing, sword fighting, and flying. However, now she wished with all her heart that she could have a second chance. She thought that she might have been missing something by staying young forever, but she realized that as the years went on, all she'd be missing would have been expectations, deadlines, wrinkles, and death. She understood now that she was never meant to be an ordinary English woman. Besides, how exciting could an English lady's life be? All they did all day was cook, sew, and gossip. A woman would practically be stoned to death if they even showed their ankles in public. In Neverland she could be as free as she wanted. She could be adventurous and no one would reprimand her for being too bold. She could learn to use a sword to carve up pirates instead of a kitchen knife to carve up chicken for dinner. "Nature" meant the jungle in Neverland, while in Bloomsbury it might merely mean the daisies on the side of the road. Wendy longed for wide, open spaces and clean, clear skies. She wanted freedom more than anything else in the world. Neverland could give her that freedom that she desired.

She stood up and stared out the window as the white material of the bed sheet fell around her feet.

"If you won't come to me, I'm going to come to you," said Wendy resolutely. Taking in a deep breath of the sharp air, she readied herself on the outer windowsill that hung over the outside of her house. She had no balcony in her new room so it made balancing a little difficult. A happy thought of the impending springtime brought her mind serenity. With her happy thought ready, now it was time to take off! Eyes closed, smile on her face, she jumped… And she began to fly! Faster and faster she soared until… she heard a sickening crack and thud. Everything was still. At first, Wendy was confused. What had just happened? Suddenly, he leg felt like it was on fire. Along with that, she had a splitting headache. She finally opened her eyes and when her vision came into focus, she spied a streetlamp. Wondering where she was, she tried to turn her head to look around but the second she started to shift it, the headache worsened.

"_What… what happened?"_ she thought hazily. And then the initial shock of the pain wore off and she understood her situation. She hadn't flown at all. She had fallen. And she had landed incorrectly on her leg. All of a sudden, the fire of pain turned into an unbearable inferno feeding off of her flesh. Finally, she found her voice and released a piercing scream. It hurt so badly the only thing she could do was scream until she was out of breath. As her cries disturbed the calm night, a racket came from inside the house. Her name was called twice before two faces peeked out of the window. Her mother and father looked around and when they glanced downward, Mrs. Darling gasped and Mr. Darling instructed her to call the hospital right away. Quick breaths made Wendy feel a little better but she feared that if she kept up this rapid breathing pace, she was sure to pass out. Fat tears rolled down her face as she let out another loud scream. She couldn't cope with this kind of pain, it was eating her up. Several neighboring houses had heard her and flicked on their lights. Some even came out in their nightgowns and pajamas to see what all the fuss was about. Mr. Darling burst out of the front door and rushed to Wendy's side. He took hold of her hand.

"I'm here, dear. It's alright. The ambulance will be here soon," he said soothingly even though she could hear his heart beating a million times a minute. As he said, just moments later, a large whitecar came speeding up and they got Wendy and Mr. Darling inside. Eventually, she did pass out in the hospital car but even in her unconsciousness, she could feel her leg throbbing painfully.

* * *

A blinding light awoke Wendy hours later and she cracked her eyes open just enough to see. At first all she could see was white, but as soon as her eyes adjusted she could clearly see everything in the room. To her surprise, her leg had been propped up and put in tight bandages and Mr. Darling stood just outside the hospital room as he conversed with what looked like a doctor. Still aching from a few hours prior, her head had been wrapped up but with light bandages, which told Wendy that her head injury wasn't at all severe. Just as she sat up in her bed, Mr. Darling glanced over to check on Wendy and saw her awake. He smiled quite cheerfully and entered the room.

"How are you feeling, Wendy?" he asked, like all concerned parents do.

"Fine," replied Wendy. "My head is sore and my leg feels stiff but I'm much better than a while ago."

"You gave us quite the scare when you fell out of the window. Your mother is still at home with the boys and she called and said that they're very anxious to see you well again."

"Well, I will be sure not to disappoint them," said Wendy and she smiled. Just a moment later, another doctor came in and requested Mr. Darling's presence. As asked, George left and talked to the man in private. So for a few minutes, Wendy had nothing to do but looking around. The only thing that she really noticed was a small, furry stuffed owl on the table that stood next to the hospital bed. She smiled and let out a short laugh as she grabbed the owl, Leroy, whom she used to hold when she would get her teeth pulled at the dentist or get shots at the doctor's office. She sat him on her shoulder (for he was small enough to do that) and rested her cheek against him. Then, her father returned.

"What did the doctor want, Father?" she inquired but Mr. Darling was hesitant to answer.

"Wendy, dear... Something… has come up. They need to take you to the institute," confessed Mr. Darling.

"What? Why?" asked Wendy. She was so confused. Why would they need to? Did they think that the bump to the head had shaken up her brains?

"They want you there just to keep an eye on you and take care of you. That's all," said her father but he averted his eyes in a manner that told Wendy he was hiding something.

"Is there more?"

"Um… yes, well… you'll be there for six weeks and then they'll be able to tell how you are after that."

"Six weeks? What could be wrong with me!"

"Nothing, darling. They just want to be safe."

Their short conversation was interrupted by the same doctor entering the room but stopped as soon as he realized they were talking.

"Pardon me, just getting medical documents about our Wendy here. I'll be right out," he said in apology and once he grabbed the papers on the table next to the hospital bed, he exited quickly.

For a few minutes, neither the father nor the daughter said anything for Mr. Darling was feeling too guilty and Wendy was still rather perplexed. Something was just all wrong with Mr. Darling's reasoning. They wanted to be safe? Her father insisted that he knew nothing could be the matter but they still wanted to take her to the "loony bin"? If they were all truly certain about her sanity they would just let her go home. It's not like she hadn't been to the institution before but they always sent her away after a few hours saying that she was absolutely fine.

The silence was finally broken by Leroy the owl falling off Wendy's shoulder and hitting the floor with a soft "tuff".

"So, I'm to stay in the mental clinic for almost two months. And nothing is wrong?" clarified Wendy. _'This doesn't make a bit of sense. I have a feeling there's something that Father is not telling me.'_

"That's exactly right. They said that they'll take you over there this afternoon. It's about ten o'clock in the morning as of now," answered Mr. Darling with his eyes darting nervously around the room.

"Will I be able to have everyone visit me once in a while? Can the boys can and see me sometime?"

"That will depend. Things will all work out but for right now you just need to do as the doctors and nurses tell you and behave like a lady." Mr. Darling was slowly heading for the door as he spoke and smiled once last time before departing. "Goodbye, Wendy."

Wendy stared at the closed door for minutes even after her dad had left. She was just in shock at the moment. He just abandoned her here at the hospital!

"Bloody Hell, what is he thinking!" she said in exasperation but she said it quietly so no one would be upset by her foul mouth.

So there she laid, with Leroy still on the floor and her still barely awake. What an ordeal Wendy was about to face in the next six weeks. She tried to remember what it was like at the mental hospital when she has gone there before but she had never spent anytime there to truly know what horrors might await her. Just the thought of what might happen sent chills down her spine. This was not going to be an enjoyable time, because for the next number of weeks she was going to be treated like she was insane.


	3. An Unnerving Welcome

Title: Madly in Love

Summary: When Wendy came back from Neverland and started telling people about her experiences, they all thought she was crazy… literally. Can she convince anyone to believe her? And what if they don't?

Author's Note: Oh… my… gosh. I know, I've taken months and months to update this! I have so much I'm working on right now (2 fanfics already started, one in the making, drawing a manga/comic book, school work). I'm creative when I'm bored and I've just had too much to do. Excuse the lateness and here's chapter three!

* * *

After dressing properly in her own clothes and redressing the light gause on her temple, the hospital sent Wendy in a coach to the institute, which was just minutes away. The entire trip, she was looking out the single window in the carriage to see how close the impending building was. It was a lovely day, sun was bright, the air was clear, and the temperature was just right to be outdoors. Why is it that, on a day like this, Wendy had to be taken to a mental hospital?

The carriage stopped abruptly in front of it and the driver got down and opened the door for her. Reluctantly, she stepped out and, as slowly as she could manage, walked up to the main entrance. The building on the outside was a rather homey brick and the doors were beautiful mahogany with brass handles. It looks positively pleasant from the outside but Wendy felt sick to her stomach, knowing that things are not always as they appear and that something dark and traumatizing was waiting just behind those doors.

The driver of the coach escorted her in and took her to a woman who was sitting at a desk in a corner. She had red hair and large glasses and was leaning over some documents and jotting notes down on separate leaflet of paper. When the driver cleared his throat loudly, she looked up and gave a superficial smile. It was the kind that she must have handed out a thousand times a day, so it was not genuine but polite and proper. Her gaze jumped from the driver to Wendy and put down her ink pen.

"And who do we have here?" she asked, as if she was speaking to a child. The driver nudged Wendy's back and signaled for her to answer.

"My name's Wendy Darling," said Wendy slowly.

"Ah, yes. Wendy. Dr. Rollins called us this morning about your admittance," she replied. She rummaged through her papers and pulled a certain sheet out before stuffing it in a pocket on her dress. Then she looked at the driver and said, "Thank you for getting her here safely, Robbins."

"My pleasure, ma'am," he said courteously and tipped his hat. The woman blushed a little and directed her eyes back on the seventeen year old in front of her as Robbins the driver exited to get back to his coach.

"Welcome to Bloomsbury Mental Institution, love. My name is Bridget Vonderbeck and I'm the chief secretary here. I know pretty much all about this place, so if you ever need help then be sure to come and ask my any questions you have," assured Bridget, a slight Irish accent seeping into her speech.

"Thank you, ma'am," said Wendy, not really meaning it but just simply for the sake of being polite.

"Alright, let's first get you to the nurse for your first tests."

"Excuse me?"

"Every inmate must take a blood test to see if they have any sort of strange blood problems. This helps us determine if they're sick, have an abnormality, or are allergic to medicine. It's just one little shot and you'll be right out of there."

This did not bode well. Wendy was never squeamish or nervous around needles but still, they had to poke a hole in her skin, suck out blood, and then run some tests on her that will supposedly tell them all they need to know about her. She grimaced and then smiled a little at her next thought. She could hear the doctor saying "Yes, Wendy Maura Angela Darling. Age 17, likes pork, 2 broken bones, favorite color is green, and is obsessed with a boy named Peter Pan." Oh yes, _blood tests_ are the way to go. She rolled her eyes and clicked her tongue but Bridget didn't hear.

The halls of the institute were very bare. There were not decorations or paintings like a civilized home should have. It was painted a washed out white and looked like halls and halls of blank paper. And that's how it felt… blank. The floor was wood in some rooms and linoleum in others. It all seemed too sterilized and too white. It gave Wendy a headache being in such a bright white room. And on top of all that, it was eerily quiet, almost like they were hiding something.

Another door lay before her and Bridget opened it to reveal a nurse, dressed in all white herself.

"_Oh, lord, _please_ let there be more than the color white in this place,"_ she mockingly pleaded in her head.

The nurse looked over and gave a fake smile like Bridget's, but this one was much nastier, like the nurse had never had a good day in her life. She was a stout woman, and the buttons on her nurse's dress were straining to hold her inside in material. While Wendy was noticing the messy curls about the nurse's head, the woman pulled out a 3 inch needle!

"This is Wendy Darling, Cordelia. Obviously a new patient, so she needs some blood drawn," explained Bridget. Cordelia nodded.

"I assumed so," answered the woman called Cordelia. Then she motioned for Wendy to come sit in a very cushy armchair and the girl did so without complaint.

Wendy had received several shots before, even blood samples. All of them were quick and practically painless so she wasn't very worried. Cordelia pulled out an elastic band and tied it around Wendy's upper arm, and she explained that it was so the veins were easier to locate. It sounded logical enough. But after a few moments of Cordelia just readying the needle (which really didn't need that much readying) Wendy was starting to lose some feeling in her lower arm. This was obviously getting very uncomfortable, losing circulation always is. Finally, Cordelia came at Wendy's arm with the shot. A simple prick on the inside of her elbow, and the needle was inserted in her arm. No pain was hitting. Cordelia pulled the stopper very, _very_ slowly on the syringe needle and the wide tube began to fill up with a brownish-red fluid. The tube looked like it was barely smaller than a beaker she'd seen in her science class, and was labeled in increments of 2. The blood was closing on almost 20, and it didn't seem like the nurse should be taking that much blood just for a test. The corpulent woman stood there extracting blood for a few more seconds then pulled it out.

"You're all done. I'm surprised. Girls especially typically put up a huge fuss over these needles. You're very brave," Cordelia complimented, but the girl it was directed towards sat up a little straighter. She was always one who enjoyed praises.

"Since you're all done here, I'll take you to your room next. How's that sound, Wendy?" asked Bridget, who has been standing in the room waiting the whole time.

"Lovely," she answered back. Wendy had decided to try and make the best of this experience. Maybe if she just could look at the bright side, she wouldn't be miserable the whole time.

Next, the redheaded lady turned on her heel and walked out the door with Wendy trailing behind her.

From the outside, the institution didn't seem very big, so she was very surprised to have to walk past rows and rows of halls, just leading to bedrooms. It was quite a walk to get to her "cell", as they called it. What a fitting name.

Bridget Vonderbeck was acting like a museum's tour guide as they strolled through the corridors, talking all the while and explaining what things were and why they were there. Wendy tried to listen intently just to be polite but also incase she might need to remember them later. Because who knows when this random information will come in handy? Finally, they turned down on certain hallway and stopped in front of a door, looking just as uniform as the rest, where Bridget rapped her knuckles on the door.

"Eliza," the woman called. There was no answer. Instead of waiting for one, Bridget turned the knob and walked right in. The room was empty, the walls were bare, and there were two spring mattress beds in opposite corners of the room. One of the beds was nice and tidy like no one had been using it and the other was tousled and unmade. Obviously, there had already been someone sleeping in it, probably this Eliza girl whom Bridget had been calling for. Without hesitation, Wendy stepped in the room and listened to more of the older woman's tour guide spiel.

"At last, here's your cell. It's room 43 and don't forget that, my dear. You'll be sharing a room with another young lady by the name of Eliza Patrick. She's a lovely girl, you'll both get along quite well if you both behave."

"Where is she now?"

"Probably off in the dining room. I showed it to you on the way here. It's about time for all the patients to eat lunch," replied Ms. Vonderbeck. She fished out a piece of folded up paper from a deep pocket and handed it to Wendy very unceremoniously. "This is your schedule. It details everything that you need to be at and where it is. On your bed are two sets of clothes. One is a nightgown, which you shall wear all through the day (hospital rules). The second is a grey dress that you are allowed to wear when you have visitors or when we go on outings. Understand?"

Wendy nodded.

"Good. That's all of the basics, so I'll be off. Remember, I'm up at the front desk if you need anything. Ta, La."

What a strange woman she was. Wendy chuckled. She seemed like one who was meant to deal with children the way she talked to Wendy, calling her "love" and "dear" and "la".

Holding up the schedule, she looked it over carefully, very curious as to what it entailed. What kind of things do you _do_ at a mental hospital?

7:00 – Breakfast in the dining room  
8:00 – Journal writing  
8:30 – Art class  
10:00 – Session with Dr. Powell  
12:00 – Lunch in the dining room  
1:00 - Leisure time  
3:30 - Afternoon Tea  
4:00 – Reading time in the Library  
5:30 – Supper in the dining room  
6:30 – Session with Dr. Smith  
8:30 – Leisure time  
9:00 – Curfew

"Well, they have the entire day all planned out, don't they," said Wendy, who was actually very surprised at how structured it all was. It was almost like boarding school, just without classes and homework. The current time was 12:30, or so it said on the small clock on the desk that stood humbly near the wall in her cell. She thought for a moment and then concluded, _"Well, I suppose I'll just skip to leisure time, eh?"_

She ventured over to her perfectly made bed and spied the clothes chosen for her. The nightgown was an off-white, and Wendy hoped that was intentional and not because of constant use. She held it up, inspecting it up and down, and realized how large it was. Slipping it over her head, it fell over her effortlessly and a few inches of material touched the floor. Then she tried walking in it and stepped on the hem several times but never actually falling, thank goodness.

"This is absurd! Do they really believe I would fit in this? It's larger than my bed sheet!" laughed Wendy. She turned it into a joke and laughed about how she looked like a child in their parent's clothes. No part of it fit her correctly but she reasoned it was better to deal with having to hold it up as she walked, than be disrespectful and unappreciative by asking for a new one. _"That would be rather rude."_

"You look new."

Wendy spun around and stopped laughing when the voice from behind her caught her attention. There was a small, thin, blonde girl standing in the doorway. She couldn't have been older than 14, and was wearing a teal nightgown that Wendy wouldn't have minded trading her white one for, because it looked like the girl's proper size.

"_How embarrassing! Here I was canoodling about like an idiot and she walks in_," thought Wendy.

"I'm Eliza," the girl said quickly and shut the door. She strutted over to her bed and flopped onto it in a very unladylike way.

"My name's Wendy. It's very nice to meet you."

"Yes, nice to meet you too, I suppose," said Eliza sarcastically. She put her hands behind her head and closed her eyes before sighing deeply.

For a few moments, nothing was said between the two, and Wendy felt the need to strike up a conversation.

"You were right. I am new," rambled Wendy, trying to get the ball rolling.

"Well, aren't I clever? Don't bother with awe, anyone can tell you're new. You're night clothes don't even fit yet."

"Am I supposed to grow into this or something?" asked Wendy as she pulled at least a foot of cotton cloth away from her, showing how oversized it as.

"No, but almost everyone finds a way to alter their clothes to make them fit. When they first handed me this disgusting nightgown, I could barely pull it over my head. I made a few adjustments and now it is finally half-way decent."

"Oh. Oh yes, I suppose that would make sense."

Another long pause and all Wendy heard was shuffling outside the cell door. It was probably the other people leaving dinner, and now was their "leisure time".

"So why are you here?" asked Eliza out of the blue, her eyes still closed like she was trying to sleep.

"Me? My parents think I attempted suicide."

"That would explain that thing on your forehead," Eliza responded, cracking on eye open to look at the other girl. "But did you?"

"Heavens, no! Why would I do a thing like that?"

"Possibly because you're miserable in your life and feel like the only way to be happy is to leave it permanently, hoping that God will grant you peace in death."

Stunned and speechless, Wendy stared at Eliza. She spoke with so much wisdom, such that Wendy, though she was older in years, felt quite inferior to Eliza, who was more experienced in those things.

Wendy had never thought of it like that before. She had never been so unhappy in her life that it drove her to do something so drastic. Was that why people killed themselves?

"I… I don't think I've ever felt that," said Wendy meekly. Eliza gave a bitter laugh.

"By the end of your visit here, trust me, you'll know how that feels," said the blonde. "You're such a little lamb right now but things will change. How long as you scheduled to stay?"

"Six weeks."

"You're one of the lucky ones then."

"Why is that?"

"Most of the patients here have undefined release dates. They stay until the doctors and therapists think they're ready for the world. Some stay here the rest of their lives."

This was scaring her. Would she have to stay longer than six weeks? It seemed a little extreme to do any more than that, but would the doctors keep her here longer? Would her parents keep her here longer?

"How long have you been here, Eliza?" Wendy said softly.

"… I've been in Bloomsbury Mental Institution for over eighteen months when they told me I'd be out in four."

Wendy was really starting to worry now. She unconsciously touched the gauze over her temple and hopednervously, "Mother and Father wouldn't let that happen."


	4. Skittles and Lies

Title: Madly in Love

Summary: When Wendy came back from Neverland and started telling people about her experiences, they all thought she was crazy… literally. Can she convince anyone to believe her? And what if they don't?

Author's Note: Well, I'm sure you're all anxious to know when Peter makes his big entrance… well it's not in this chapter. Sorry! He** does** come near the end (which isn't terribly far away). If you guys can hold out long enough, you'll get to see him.

Just a random funny note, I keep forgetting that Peter Pan was set in an earlier period, so I'll have written a whole chapter or something and be reading through it and realize "Wait, was linoleum invented by then?" So then I have to go look it up and see if certain things were around in that time. And I'd just like to say that, yes, it was invented. And by the way, "Skittles" is just the traditional name for Bowling.

* * *

Wendy and Eliza didn't talk long. Just minutes after Eliza told Wendy how long she'd been forced to stay, a kindly-looking nurse stepped in and invited the two to the recreational room for their free time. Eliza got up silently and walked down the hall while Wendy followed at her heels.

Eliza seemed like the tough, experienced inmate, despite the fact that she was so young, who was a good choice to befriend. She knew where things were, how things operated, and she was strong willed. Besides that, she was fairly close in age to Wendy herself. She was a pretty good find in a confusing place like the institute. And although she was blunt and sharp tongued, Wendy had a feeling that this blonde little girl was secretly very lonely and sad. She was probably like a lot of the other people admitted in here.

Anyway, Eliza led Wendy to the recreational room which room that looked somewhat like an unsophisticated parlor, with a large leather couch, matching armchair, and coffee table being in the center. However, no decorative lamps or rugs or window drapes furnished the space. But **this **room, for a change, was grey.

"Yes, this is _much_ better," mumbled Wendy cynically.

"Pardon?" said Eliza, looking up over her shoulder.

"Nothing," said Wendy quickly. _"She probably thinks I'm nuts… well, I'm in the right place."_

Wendy kept forgetting that this was not civilized society where people were polite and manners were required. This place, strange as it was, didn't demand etiquette or proper conversation. Of course the people in it were a tad batty, but in here they were real and open. As she watched a group of men playing cards, she saw one man slam his cards down on the table and another laugh and tease the loser. The former yelled and left the table while the rest continued with their game, leaving the quitter out. And as disrespectful and unsportsmanlike as that was, it was how they were really feeling. The people in the mental hospital got to express their feelings with the one excuse that they were a little weird upstairs.

Wendy smiled and almost felt comforted. She might enjoy some of her time here… slightly.

"Hey, Mindy!" called Eliza from the other side of the rec. room.

"It's Wendy."

"Right, right. Come over here!"

Wendy swiftly obeyed and scuttled over to Eliza's side.

"Ever played Skittles, Wendy?" asked Eliza. A brunette boy about the same size as Eliza peeked out from behind Eliza and smiled when he saw Wendy, and she cheerfully smiled back.

"No, I've never heard of it," admitted Wendy.

"Oh my god, where have you been?"

"I don't get to play much. The only games I've ever played are chess and draughts… or checkers; which ever you might call them."

"Well, Noodle and I are going to teach you. It's quite fun," said Eliza. Then she turned to the boy hiding silently behind her and said, "Noodle, meet Wendy. She's my new roommate. Wendy, Noodle."

"Hello, Noodle. How do you do?" said Wendy politely and smiled inwardly because of the boy's peculiar name. Noodle did not speak, only waved and blushed.

Eliza handed Wendy a heavy, black ball with three holes in it and went to the other end of the room to set up ten slightly faded white pins in a pyramid shape. Wendy glanced over at Noodle to ask what she was doing but the second that she turned his way, his gaze fell to the floor and Wendy decided against it.

"These are the pins. The whole point is to knock down all ten. You have two chances to roll that ball and hit the pins. You count how many you hit and add them all up at the end," Eliza explained as she traveled from the pins to Wendy and Noodle. She took the ball from Wendy and stuck the proper fingers in the holes before rolling it on the floor towards the pins, which clattered together when struck and left only 3 standing. "Easy, right?"

"Seems so," Wendy said smiling. After Eliza's second try, the older girl was handed the ball. Imitating Eliza's movements, she hurled the ball to the triangle of pins. All of a sudden, the ball went off course and collided with a small end table with a crash. Two of the legs were crunched off and the ball passed through and hit the wall, leaving a deep dent. The entire room looked in Wendy's direction.

"_Oh no. What have I done?"_ thought Wendy, as the anxiousness welled up inside her. She fretfully turned to Eliza who's eyes were wide with surprise and warning. Just moments later, a nurse came barging through the door in a huff.

"What was that racket?" she demanded. "I leave for a few minutes and you start getting destructive!"

She panned the room and saw the damaged table and wall with the Skittles ball nearby. Pursing her lips into a thin line, she searched the room for the culprit and saw Wendy and Eliza standing in front of the pins, looking very nervous.

"You two, Eliza and company. Come with me immediately," she ordered harshly.

She marched the girls down to an unfamiliar office where a middle-aged man was sitting at a desk and reading a thin book. He looked up when the nurse burst in with two young ladies who were both looking very gloomy.

"May I ask to what I owe this visit?" he asked calmly.

"These two girls were throwing around the Skittles ball. Not only is there now a large hole in the wall, the French end table is completely destroyed as well," she reported and Eliza gave her an incredulous look.

"Thank you, ma'am. I'll take it from here. I've dealt with Miss Eliza Patrick here before," he assured her and the nurse nodded and left, still angry at what happened.

When the door closed, the man smoothed back some of his blonde hair and sighed deeply with his eyes closed. Wendy looked over at Eliza shook her head and smirked like there was nothing to worry about. This relieved her a little and she relaxed.

"Please sit down, girls," said the doctor. The two obeyed soundlessly and Wendy caught a glimpse of the plaque on the doctor's desk which read: Dr. Edward Powell.

So he was one of her counselors. On the list that Bridget had given her, it had said that she was to meet with a Dr. Powell everyday. The doctor in question stood from his cushy, leather chair and walked around to the front of his desk then leaned against it with his eyes boring sharply into Eliza's. He then looked over to Wendy and asked her name.

"I'm Wendy Darling, sir," she answered quickly.

He paused again and shook his head disapprovingly.

"Total lack of respect for property, that's what this is. I'm very big on respect here, Wendy. Now, I can understand why you two did this. It has to do with both of you being thick," said Dr. Powell very sternly. "What I do not understand, Eliza, is why you would do such a thing when you know how I am when I get angry."

"You don't even know what happened, Doctor," argued Eliza, who was absolutely not affected by his rebuking lecture.

"The nurse told me everything I need to know. And you, young lady, have a history for acts like this. I am very disappointed in both of you. This is not a happy face I have," responded Dr. Powell. "What sort of face is it, Miss Patrick."

"An ugly face, sir?" Eliza answered, with a very self-satisfied smirk. Wendy fought off a smile that started pulling on her mouth.

"No. It is an angry one," said the doctor sharply, then reached over and slapped Eliza across the face. Wendy jumped slightly when his hand connected with her cheek with a resounding smack, but Eliza bounced right back and ignored her stinging cheek which was now growing pink.

"I'm going to have to write this down on both of your records."

"Bloody hell, Dr. Powell, if you would just listen we could explain what really went on!" persisted Eliza and Wendy nodded in agreement.

"I'm sorry, young lady. You're not exactly a reliable source with your condition."

"_Her condition?"_ considered Wendy, as Dr, Powell pulled files from his desk drawer and was thumbing through them, probably finding their records. _"What condition does Eliza have?"_

Her fair-haired roommate had so far seemed like a reasonably normal girl, just one with a hard head. Even though she had been in the institute for so long, it had never occurred to Wendy that Eliza might have been diagnosed with something serious. She mentally chastised herself for being so foolish. Eliza must have had a problem if she was in here for so long. However, what kind of disorder could she have to make Dr. Powell not even give her the opportunity to defend herself?

Wendy thoughts were broken by a dripping sound coming from beside here. Glancing over, she noticed a small trickle of something flowing down Eliza's chair. Eliza herself had a smug grin on her face and she sighed contently as the wet spot in her lap grew. Wendy, who was at first disgusted, then smiled too. So Dr. Powell wouldn't listen? Well, let's see if he ever uses** that **chair again. She suppressed a giggle and Eliza smiled triumphantly at her.

* * *

They were sent back to their cell for the remainder of leisure time as their punishment and Eliza changed into her visiting dress, which was a worn-out brown dress with cream colored sleeves.

Since Wendy could read, the institute provided her with several books which were almost all useless. The only book she even bothered to open was Pride and Prejudice only because Aunt Millicent had tried to make her read it several times, raving about how amazing it was. Remember this, she sat down at the small desk and began to read it. Every once in a while, she would look up at the clock to see if it was 3:30 yet and they could go to tea.

Eliza did what she always seemed to do, which was lay in her bed with her hands behind her head and her eyes closed. For a long time, neither said anything, the only noise was coming from pages turning slowly. About two chapters into Pride and Prejudice, Wendy was feeling like she was going to doze off so she put it down and broke the silence with the question that had been tugging at her since they left Dr. Powell's office.

"Eliza?"

"Hm."

"What did Dr. Powell mean when he said you weren't trustworthy with your condition?" asked Wendy hesitantly. Eliza looked up from her bed with an indifferent expression. Leaning on her elbows for support, she looked Wendy straight in the eye with the most serious stare.

"It's no secret around here that I have short term memory loss."

"So you'll just forget things sometimes?"

"That's right. It's actually quite frequent for me."

"Is that why you're in here?"

"I guess so. It's the_ cause_ of the reason why I'm here."

"I don't think I understand," said Wendy, shaking her head unsurely.

Apparently, I committed a number of crimes, all of which I don't remember."

"What sort of crimes?"

"Quite a variety, so they tell me. I stole a horse from my school teacher, stabbed a boy with a pair of scissors in the leg, burned part of my own house while playing in the fireplace, raped my next-door neighbor-"

"Excuse me?"

"I raped him. Molested him. You know, forced him to 'consummate' with me," said Eliza like it was as natural as breathing. Wendy's face contorted in horror. The others were bad enough but _that_… that was utterly horrendous!

"You defiled you neighbor?" Wendy clarified, still frozen from repugnance and shock. "Why that's absolutely revolting!"

"Why? Haven't you ever had physical relations with a boy?" asked Eliza cynically.

"Of course not! I'm not even an adult yet! I would never even think of doing such things! I've never done something so atrocious" cried Wendy, standing up from her seat.

Eliza just looked at her and a small smile crept across her face, slowly transforming into a Cheshire grin.

"Neither have I," she said. "I don't have short-term memory loss. I'm a compulsive liar."

"A what?" asked Wendy in astonishment. Eliza burst into a fit of laughter from her prank and Wendy stood motionless and entirely perplexed.

"A compulsive liar. I lie about a lot of things, most of which don't actually matter and some of which really do. I can't help it," she explained casually.

"You just lie about everything?"

"Not everything, just a lot of things."

"So that was all just a big lie. The whole thing about committing crimes and violating a neighbor, it was just a hoax?"

"You're a sharp one, Wendy Darling," said Eliza who then lay back down and shut her eyes once more.

"That was just horrid. You scared the daylights right out of me," Wendy sighed while she massaged her temples.

"Maybe sometimes that's why I lie, to see peoples' reactions," reasoned the younger lass.

"So did you lie about being in here for eighteen months too?" asked Wendy spitefully.

"…No," she said slowly. "I'd never lie about how long I've been in this Hell."

Wendy stood silent for a second or two and looked at Eliza carefully. Something told her that this was the honest-to-God truth. Eliza had been in here too long.

At that moment, there was a soft knock on the cell door and a sweet, older nurse poked her head in to remind the girls that Tea time was to begin shortly.


	5. Bored to Sleep

Title: Madly in Love

Summary: When Wendy came back from Neverland and started telling people about her experiences, they all thought she was crazy… literally. Can she convince anyone to believe her? And what if they don't?

Author's Note: Alrighty then, here we are at chapter five. Hopefully it's been improving since chapter one (and yes, I did realize the whole thing with bowling was a little misplaced, but unfortunately it was necessary to spur the scene with Mr. Powell). By the way, I changed the genre from angst to humor because right now, I haven't gotten to the real dark stuff. It's mostly comedic at the moment. I'm trying to outline the whole story but it's not at all finished so if you ever feel like it, feel free to give me ideas. And of course, **_REVIEW_** whenever possible.

* * *

At teatime, it was basically a half hour devoted to teaching proper manners so that once the inmates were released into society, they would know how to behave. The very dull room it was taught in looked like a basement with a long table set with cheap china and a nice sofa in the corner. 

A stout woman with frizzy grey hair taught how to drink, how to eat, and how to make conversation while having tea. The entire affair was boring Wendy practically to tears because she had heard all this a thousand times before. She had taken four years of this with Aunt Millicent and had enough of it to last her a lifetime. So while she sat there almost falling asleep, Eliza had to find ways to entertain herself and Noodle while really not listening to the lesson.

"I spy, with my little eye, something… yellow," whispered Eliza to Noodle. He whispered something else back into her ear and she nodded with a smile. And while Noodle whispered what he was "spying", Wendy was scrutinizing the boy. Why did he only talk to Eliza? What was wrong with him that put him in here? Why in God's name was he called_ Noodle_!

She looked very closely at him to notice that, even though he was small in stature, he had a defined, mature-looking face that suddenly made him appear older than Wendy had first realized. The next thing she realized was how dirty he looked. His chestnut brown hair was tousled and greasy like he hadn't bathed in a while and his skin was very pale. It was the sort of pale that you see from people in prison who hadn't seen the light of day for too long.

If Noodle looked a little happier or a little cleaner, he could have been mistaken for handsome.

"And if you should prefer not to have tea, then simply place your cup upside down with you spoon across it and say very courteously, '_I shall have no tea'_. Now repeat," said the teacher loudly, scrambling Wendy from her thoughts. The whole room copied her and said in unison, "I shall have no tea."

* * *

"Well that was about the biggest waste of time I've ever had to endure," exclaimed Eliza while walking out of the room. On their way to the library, Wendy and Eliza talked about how completely mind-numbing the entire thing was. 

"It was like reading a novel about cotton balls," said Eliza laughing.

"No, it was more like listening to the exciting life and times of a pine cone," Wendy added.

"It was like going to the opera."

"Watching a snail run a mile."

"Going to the dentist."

"Waiting for your hair to grow."

"Drinking water!"

"What?" asked Wendy as she stopped suddenly in the hall.

"Well… water is probably the dullest thing you can drink. It tastes like nothing!" explained Eliza.

"You are some kind of strange, Eliza," said Wendy jokingly as she pushed her friend a little with her shoulder. Eliza immediately retaliated and slammed Wendy into the wall, laughing hysterically.

"Take that, fiend!"

"I'll get you!" cried Wendy and she howled like an Indian before taking off after Eliza. Tearing down the hall and passing each patient, they made as much noise as possible while pretending they were Indians.

Then suddenly, someone stepped out in their path and both girls rammed into the unexpecting casualty. A loud "_thud_" boomed throughout the hall as both girls dog-piled onto the poor victim. When they both got up, they saw the kindly chief secretary Bridget sprawled out in the floor. She sat up straight away and tried to fix her disheveled hair and lopsided glasses. Once she straightened out her glasses and could see clearly, she looked up at the guilty party and gave a stern stare.

"Young ladies, there is **no** rough-housing. It's almost time for you two to be in the library for our reading time," she reprimanded. "You lasses better scurry on in there before I get you into quite a bit of trouble for this."

"Yes, ma'am," answered Wendy. Eliza just bolted towards the library without saying a word. Wendy followed and was lead to the only room in the entire building that had some color.

"Thank God!" said Wendy aloud. It was a nice, homey brown in the library. The shelves and shelves of books were made of oak and the walls were wood paneling. And to top it all off, there was a very beautiful green rug in the middle of the room. Wendy smiled joyously. This had been the first happy sight she'd seen in what felt like days.

The room buzzed with quiet conversation while the patients waited for a nurse or doctor to come and lead them in their reading. Until then, they were to wait quietly.

But how much fun can **that** be?

Wendy and Eliza were so wound up from running around before that they couldn't settle down enough to stay calm. Engaging in a game of tag, they ran 'round and 'round the particularly large room, smacking each other and repeating it. In the middle of their game, Wendy caught a glimpse of Noodle sitting in a corner with a book in hand and reading it attentively. When she called for him, he looked up and his face split into a smile. Wendy darted over and pulled him up from the floor.

"Come on, Noodle. Play with us!" she exclaimed breathlessly. He looked up at her almost in awe, like he thought it was the mostly amazing thing in the world that someone wanted to play with him. She grabbed his arm and tugged him along yelling, "Noodle's it!"

Eliza heard and started screaming in delight like one does when they have so much energy and not enough to do with it. While she wasn't looking, she ran right smack into another patient. The man she ran into turned around and glared at her. He was quite intimidating, with a scraggly beard and a deep scar over his nose. Nevertheless, Eliza stood up and came up with her excuse on the spot.

"Pardon me. I can't see very well without my glasses," she lied coolly, and the ugly man's expression turned from anger to understanding. After that, she walked over to the other two kids, who were still trembling from the sight of the other inmate.

"He looks like he should be in jail, not the institute," commented Wendy. Noodle nodded.

* * *

Reading time was almost as bad as teatime. One of the doctors (the only female doctor in the entire institute) assigned everyone in the group a chapter of the novel to read. The novel was so boring that Wendy couldn't even remember the title so as to remember not to try and read it in the future. 

Reading out loud and in front of people was supposed to enhance speech and public speaking skills, although no one put any effort into it.

While sitting in her very cushy seat, Wendy accidentally dozed off from lack of sleep the previous night and being bored stiff from listening to the monotone readings of this completely uninteresting book. And while she slept, she dreamed…

_It was nighttime, and Wendy was back in her room. The window was wide open and the wind was blowing furiously. She slowly stepped closer to the open window and peered out of it vigilantly. Unfortunately, there was nothing there._

_She looked up to the night sky like she had done night after night, seeking the boy from so many years ago and listening for the never-changing laugh that had soothed her on so many occasions. _

_Then, she saw it. A shadow blacker than the sky itself was flying avidly through the air. _

"_Peter!" she shouted gleefully. The shadow seemed to hear her and soared down from the heavens towards Wendy's window. She jumped up and down and laughed as he came into view. _

_It was Peter._

"_Peter! I can't believe it's you!" she said in excitement as he closed in on her house. He flew straight through the window and stopped right in front of his Wendy lady. Then, he whispered those familiar words…_

"_Come away. Come away to Neverland."_

_At that moment, Wendy heard another voice call her name softly. Then louder and louder until it sounded like yelling!_

Wendy awoke with a start, suddenly realizing that she had been dreaming. Everything was a blur, with swirling colors distorting her vision. When her eyes finally came back into focus, she saw the female doctor in front of her trying to hand her the book. It was her turn to read.

"Wendy, wake up, damn it," said the doctor irritably. She was obviously not happy that Wendy had taken a short little nap.

"Oh, yes! Of course!" said Wendy hurriedly. She took the book and started reading where the doctor had instructed. "Chapter six…"

* * *

Supper passed by in a flash. It was a quick meal of potatoes and squash (since the institute couldn't afford much better) and then each patient was hurried on to their next event. For Wendy, it was her first session with a man named Dr. Smith. 

One of the nurses whom Wendy hadn't seen before walked her down to the special therapy room for said doctor. The thing that really made her feel uncomfortable was that Eliza was taken to her own psychiatrist in another part of the building, leaving Wendy to fend for herself.

She anxiously stepped through the door and was greeted by an old man with a thin beard and partially balding head.

"Welcome, Wendy Darling," he said. He stuck out his hand and she shook it just like one should when meeting someone new. "Please sit down and make yourself comfortable."

Beside her was a fluffy blue couch with two throw-pillows lined with gold tassels. She sat down slowly and tried to look presentable. Straightening her back and folding her hands in her lap, she waited for him to speak.

"First of all, my dear, you need not be lady-like if you don't feel like it. In here is where you can be entirely honest, even in the way that you act. However, I am impressed with your manners already. I think we'll get along just fine," said Dr. Smith pleasantly. He smiled warmly and the tension in Wendy's body was eased. He reminded her of a sweet, old grandfather.

"We have two full hours here so we don't have to rush into anything. That being said, let's start with the basics. My name is Dr. Edgar Smith. I like bicycling and fishing and I have a wife and two grown children," he started. "What about yourself."

Wendy cleared her throat and said in a small voice, "I'm Wendy Maura Angela Darling. I live here in Bloomsbury with my parents and my seven brothers."

"Seven!" said Dr. Smith in surprise. "That's quite a respectable number. However, I still pity your parents. Go on."

"I like reading, drawing, and telling stories."

"Stories, eh?"

"Yes, sir. I've told my little brothers stories since I was very young."

"What do you tell them about?"

"Adventure stories, love stories, fairytales. Things like that," said Wendy.

"Fascinating."

"Thank you."

"I have a daughter who used to listen to my wife tell her stories every night before she went to sleep. Against all odds, she turned into the most magnificent writer."

"Oh, I would so love to be a writer!" Wendy interjected.

"Is that so? Well, it's hard to be a writer. My daughter had a lot of talent, but she still had to go to college for years and years so she could learn to write properly. And no one would publish her books for a long time. Being a writer is hard work and it doesn't pay very much," asked the doctor.

"But it would be fun!"

"Yes, but it's not very practical. Making a respectable living off of writing is very rare."

"You sound like my aunt," muttered Wendy sullenly.

"And who might she be?" asked Dr. Smith.

"My Aunt who used to give me etiquette lessons."

"Tell me about your family, Wendy…" requested Dr. Smith.


	6. The Lost Hallway

Title: Madly in Love

Summary: When Wendy came back from Neverland and started telling people about her experiences, they all thought she was crazy… literally. Can she convince anyone to believe her? And what if they don't

Author's Note: After some constructive criticism from a friend, I've realized that the last chapter was way too rushed, so now I'm trying to focus on the quality of the chapter instead of just getting it out there. Hopefully, it'll actually pay off and make my chapter better.

**_REVIEW!_**

* * *

"My family?" Wendy repeated.

"Yes. Tell me a bit about them. Are you close with your family?" inquired Dr. Smith.

"Yes, I suppose I am. Not as much as before though. I used to share a room with my brothers, but my parents moved me into my own room shortly after I turned thirteen at the request of my Aunt."

"Now, your Aunt Millicent," interrupted the doctor. "Are you close to her as well?"

"Not so much. She always seemed much too stuffy and boring to me. She never really appreciated me very much. However, she did try to teach me manners out of the good of her heart," answered Wendy. _"Or maybe out of the desire to protect her own reputation."_

"Did you enjoy her lessons?"

"Not really. I mostly tolerated them."

"Why was that?"

"They were very uneventful and she never taught me anything I particularly cared to learn. It was just how to sit or how to eat or how to tie a corset."

"Do you harbor bitterness towards your Aunt?"

"No, she just isn't very near and dear to me."

They continued to talk about family for a long while, but Dr. Smith _kept_ coming back to the subject of Aunt Millicent. Why that was, Wendy wasn't sure. However, he almost seemed to be looking for a specific answer with all of his questions, like he was trying to invoke a certain response. She would try to move on to her mother and father and he would somehow relate them to Aunt Millicent again and then jot down notes on a pad of paper. It became almost annoying and Wendy was very relieved when he finally changed the subject from family.

"Your records tell me that you attempted suicide before being admitted here, correct?" he asked while thumbing through her file that sat on his desk.

"No. That's not it at all! I wasn't trying to commit suicide!" Wendy rebutted.

"Then please clarified the situation, my dear."

"I'm not suicidal. I **fell** out of the window."

"Is that so? Then what, pray tell, where you doing hanging out of the window in the first place? Especially at such a late hour, I might add."

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you, sir," said Wendy, fiddling with the gold tassels on the pillow.

"We'll see about that. Come now, out with it," Dr. Smith coaxed.

"It's a very long story."

"We still have a lot of time left in our session."

Wendy took a deep breath and pondered whether or not she should tell him the honest truth. What hurt could it do, right?

"I was trying… trying to fly," Wendy forced out.

"Is that so?" Dr. Smith scribbled something down on his paper.

"I was trying to get to a place called Neverland. It's where a boy named Peter Pan lives. He promised me that he'd come back every once in a while to visit me but he hadn't, and I was beginning to get worried. He told me that people could fly if they could come up with one bright and cheery thought. I reasoned that if I could fly to him, I could see him again."

"Whoa! Slow down, young lady! You're going to fast for me here. Now, start from the beginning. Who is Peter Pan?"

"A boy who never grows up. I met him when I was younger"

"Alright then. And you say that you were trying to fly to Featherland."

"Neverland."

"Yes, pardon me. Neverland. You were trying to fly to Neverland to see Peter. Am I understanding this correctly?"

When he had said it all out loud the way that he did, it suddenly sounded like so foolish that Wendy almost felt embarrassed. Trying to collect her thoughts to explain it properly, she looked aimlessly around the room and tuned out the doctor for a moment.

"Almost five years ago, Peter came through my window and took me and my two brothers to Neverland. There, we met with the lost boys who became my five other brothers. We adopted them. Peter wouldn't stay though but said he'd come back sometime. It seemed like it had been a very long time so I was concerned that Peter had forgotten to come back. I thought that I could come to him since he didn't come to me."

She continued on to tell the whole fall in detail. When she finished, Dr. Smith wrote more on his notepad and a long silence passed between them. She waited for him to ask another question, and played with the trimming on the pillow some more. Before she realized it, she had accidentally plucked out one of the tassels and nearly gasped. With no idea what else to do with it, she made sure Dr. Smith wasn't looking then stuffed it in-between the couch cushions. Becoming slightly uncomfortable, Wendy asked how much time they had left.

"Thirty-seven minutes," he replied without even looking at his watch. "It blew right past, didn't it?"

"Yes."

"It's a wonder how quickly time will pass when you're talking. I just have a few more questions to ask and then you can go."

"Alright."

The rest of the session was more small talk, like he was trying to fill up the remaining forty minutes. He didn't even write down anything she said in that last block of time, so it was obvious that they really weren't doing anything productive, just time wasting time chit-chatting.

A small bell clang stopped Dr. Smith in the middle of saying how lovely the weather had been. He glanced over at the wooden clock on a shelf near the back of the room and turned back to Wendy.

"Our first time together is over. I don't know about you, but I quite enjoyed it. And it was rather… informative," he said cordially. Wendy smiled.

"I'll be going then, sir," said Wendy in conclusion. He said goodbye and she exited the room. Once in the hallway, she tried to locate her way back to her cell. Her schedule was still sitting on the desk in there. And without Eliza, it was the only thing that told her where to go.

It was quite a relay race to get through the hall which was full of patients going to their next activity.

"Excuse me. Pardon me, sir. I'm very sorry," she kept apologizing while she pushed against the flow of people to find the room. How she hated having to be polite sometimes. If she had wanted to, she could have shoved right through and gotten out in an instant. As she passed through the hall, she looked up to see the numbers on the cell doors. _"What was my room number again?"_

Wendy stopped in her tracks. She couldn't even remember what room she was in. It was the first day and she had already forgotten it. Reprimanding herself mentally, she pressed on through the stream of people and hoped that she would at least figure out where she was soon. She hoped to be able to get to the front desk to ask Bridget where he room was. Surely she would know.

She saw an empty hallway to her right and decided to take it. It might take longer, but at least it would be easier than trying to get past these patients. So she gently zigzagged her way through the inmates and to the abandoned hallway.

"Finally," she breathed. Not wasting any time, Wendy strolled down the hall in search of something familiar that would lead her in the right direction. "If I just walk long enough, I'm bound to see someone or something I know."

While she was walking, she got this peculiar feeling inside her that made her worry. Something felt wrong. An aura in the air was making her stomach churn like it first had when she was walking up to the institute. Something felt strange and sinister and the feeling was growing stronger the farther she walked. But Wendy Darling was never one to give into her fear. She sucked up her fright and pressed on, hoping that her foreboding feeling was just paranoia.

Out of the corner of her eye, something moved. When she looked over she saw a face staring at her from the small window on a cell door. Of course, these widows were not filled with glass but instead it looked like a chain-link fence. The face was of a middle aged man, just showing from his nose up. He looked like a little child waiting at the window for his parents to come home and Wendy smiled. The man seemed harmless enough so she waved weakly.

The man suddenly started slamming into the door, shouting obscenities at Wendy. Wendy screamed at the top of her lungs as he continued and even managed to shake loose some of the screen covering the window. Without hesitation, Wendy lifted up her nightdress and ran. She ran as fast as she could but was still followed by faces watching her from their own screened windows. Some others heard the commotion and became frightened. They joined in the hysteria with their own howling and Wendy closed her eyes and kept running, so terrified that she started crying. She didn't dare look back. She darted down the hallways, turning onto different ones and still finding just room after room of out of control patients. The perfectly void white made her feel like she was running straight into the light of the sun. She couldn't see anything clearly.

Gallons of adrenaline pumped through her veins and in all her confusions and terror, she had completely lost all sense of direction and was even more lost than when she first started out. And though her legs felt like water, she had to keep going out of the fear of what might lay behind her.

With a small trip over the hem of the nightgown, Wendy went skidding down the hallways on her side very painfully. When she stopped, she didn't move but her whole body heaved with sobs. She was absolutely horrified. Her eyes were wide open unlike before when she tried to squeeze them shut to hide herself from the crazy patients. The shock held her eyes as large as they could open while she sat and cried, out loud and with no restraints. The screaming from the inmates was still echoing up and down the colorless corridors. None were fading, they just kept yelling and crying out and Wendy had no idea why.

"What did I do?" she cried. "What did I do wrong?"

She instinctively curled up and covered her face with her hands while the haunting sounds of wailing surrounded her. She pushed the honey brown hair that fell around her face out of the way, and her tears fell like a flood as she shook uncontrollably.

"I want to go home. I need my mother. I want to leave," she babbled through her weeping. "Mother…"

"Mother."

Wendy jumped at the sound of a slurring voice. She nervously looked around and to her surprise, she saw Noodle standing at the end of the hallway. He repeated sloppily, "Mother."

"Noodle!" she exclaimed. She felt relief wash over her when she saw his gentle face. He scuttled over to her with very little coordination and held out a hand. She looked up from the floor blankly. What did he want from her? He poked her lightly and then held it out again, incase she hadn't seen it before. Then Wendy took his hand and he helped her up. It was then that she realized that Noodle was almost exactly the same height at her. He tugged on her hand and sped off down the passageway. She followed close behind and in a few moments, they were out of the screaming halls. Bursting through a pair of doors, they appeared in the waiting room where Bridget was sitting at the desk, still peering over papers. She snapped her head up when she heard them run in and she clicked her tongue.

"What are you two doing out here? You're supposed to be in the recreational room!" she scolded. When she came to push them back through the doors, she saw Wendy's pink, tear-stained face and her eyes softened. She said, "Sweetheart, what in heaven's name happened to you? You look dreadful!"

"I- I don't know," Wendy hiccupped. "Where's El-Eliza?"

"I would imagine she's having her leisure time. Let's get you to her, lassie," suggested Bridget. She put an arm around Wendy shoulders and stroked her hair, trying to calm her. Noodle let go of Wendy's hand and followed the suit while all three went to the recreational room together. The few patients that they passed stared at Wendy almost curiously and she felt suddenly very ashamed of herself.

The recreational room was extra full and extra loud this time she visited and it was hard to find Eliza. However, Bridget stayed and helped her look, never leaving Wendy's side for a moment. Then a flash of blonde hair caught their attention.

"Eliza!" Bridget called over the noise. "Eliza, come here."

"What is it?" answered Eliza, poking her head out of the throng of people.

"Wendy, dear, was looking for you," said Bridget.

"You mean Wendy Darling?" Eliza corrected. She seemed to be jumping in order to get a view of them.

"Yes, yes. But she needs you, la. She seems very upset.'

Eliza hurried to the entrance and met up with the three. When she saw Wendy, she immediately asked the very popular question, "What happened?"

"I was tr-trying to find my way b-back to the room," Wendy stuttered, still shaken up.

"Lost Hallway," Noodle suddenly interjected. His speech was very muddled and hard to understand as if he never really learned how to speak properly. So it sounded like he said 'Lost her way.'

"Yes, I lost my w-way," said Wendy.

"No," Eliza stopped her. "The Lost Hallway. It's a place."

"Eliza, I have to return to the front. Please take care of our Wendy here," Bridget said, interrupting. She gave Wendy one more squeeze on the shoulder then turned and left. Eliza nodded and then looked back at Wendy.

"Hold on, follow me," Eliza said over the other voices. She walked off in a random direction and beckoned Wendy to follow. Leading them both to a lavatory, she stepped inside and pulled the older girl in with her. The noise was not nearly as bad as in the normal rec. room. Here, Wendy could tell what went on. But the first thing Wendy did was throw herself on Eliza and embrace her. Though stunned at first, Eliza did return the hug and waited patiently for Wendy to let go. For a few moments, she just cried and clung to her friend.

"I was so scared," Wendy mumbled.

"You went down the Lost Hallway. It's the worst place in all of the asylum," Eliza explained. Funny how up till now, everyone else had called it the 'institute'. Eliza was the first was to refer to it as what it really was.

"What is it?" Wendy inquired, wiping her eyes and letting go.

For a moment, there was just silence.


	7. Delusional and Childish

Title: Madly in Love

Summary: When Wendy came back from Neverland and started telling people about her experiences, they all thought she was crazy… literally. Can she convince anyone to believe her? And what if they don't?

Author's Note: Wow, this whole "Lost Hallway" idea was one of those random things that hit me in the middle of writing the chapter and it's opened up SO many things that I can add in this fic. Very shortly here we'll be getting to the more morbid parts.

To "I'm Nobody" - First of all, I do agree that it was cut off a little suddenly and there are a few ways that I could have done that better, but I really did want to leave it at a dead end. Part of it was for the sake of length (because my chapters are specifically 5 pages long, beginning from a goal then turned into habit) and just because I wanted you guys to be mad and then yell at the computer demanding more. I'm glad to hear that you were very wrapped up in it, though. When you compliment my crap writing, it really does make me want to write more. (P.S. I love you too)

_**REVIEW!**_

* * *

In the small empty bathroom, Eliza and Wendy talked with their voices down low. Eliza gave Wendy a very serious stare. There was no response.

"Please, Eliza. What is it?"

"You saw what it was. It's a hallway with a lot of rooms."

"You **know** my meaning. Why do you call it the Lost Hallway?"

"It's a story for another day, Wendy," Eliza said, trying to conclude the topic. Wendy had other ideas though.

"No! I want to know! Tell me now!" she demanded. The polite disposition that Wendy had arrived with had disappeared along with her sense of security.

"The Lost Hallways is where they put all the people who seem beyond help. It's a series of lost causes," Eliza said sharply.

"Why were they acting so…?" Wendy trailed off.

"Insane?" finished Eliza. Wendy paused for a beat.

"Yes."

"Because those are the people truly meant to be here. They're not the poor or the mentally retarded or the depressed (or the liars, in my case). They're the people who are so messed up in the head that they're as much a hazard to themselves as they are to other people. They're the ones without the psychological capabilities to even live with other people. They're those mad murderers that you hear about prowling around the shady parts of England. They're the kind of people who kill the ones they care about. They're those people who see things that aren't there. They're the people who can't help themselves. They are the truly psychotic individuals with an uncontrollable and perverse urge to have chaos and they have no idea why."

Eliza's eyes grew dark and she looked away. Wendy's inside were twisting around like a snake pit and she felt sick with fear. Eliza had definitely been here too long, seen too much.

The blonde continued. "The Lost Hallway is the back wing of this place that would traumatize any normal person. In these rooms, it's not white walls. The paint is peeled and the walls are moldy and discolored. Everything smells like rotting flesh because the patients stay there until they die and then sometimes the nurses and doctors don't even remembers to check on them. Out here, everything is so clean that it feels naked, but those rooms are so filthy that the patients play with the rats for fun. There are no windows and no roommates. The people are almost completely isolated, with the exception of the therapist who visits them occasionally. And when the therapist comes, they're always protected by a burly guard with a sedation shot on hand if they happen to get out of control. And then there are times when they just sit in their rooms and scream at nothing for hours. You're lucky you found your way out quickly. You couldn't have been in there longer than ten minutes."

"Noodle found me," said Wendy.

"Ah, I see. I'm not surprised," answered Eliza.

"Why is that?"

Eliza shrugged and said, "He used to live back there."

"What?" said Wendy incredulously.

"Actually, his mother lived there. She was wild. Noodle says his father left them when he was very young. He was a drunkard anyway. Just a bastard who would come home slobbering drunk every night and beat them. The mother just snapped and so she was tossed in here like rubbish in a trash bin. No one would take Noodle so they let him share a room with her, shockingly. They must not have really cared if the mother might turn on Noodle. But his mother passed away a while ago so they moved him to one of the better cells."

"Poor Noodle. So that's why he was repeating me when I said 'mother' in the hall."

"He almost had the whole dysfunctional family. All he'd need was a prostitute sister and it would be complete."

"Is there something wrong with Noodle himself? He seems fine, just quiet."

"Sadly, he has a mental condition that hinders his brain activity and his speech. He's always been quiet though. At least for as long as I've known him."

"You seem to know quite a lot. Noodle couldn't have told you all of that," said Wendy suspiciously and Eliza smiled, beaming with pride.

"Lying isn't my only skill. I can find anything that's hidden in here. It's kind of my hobby to stave off boredom. I figured out where all the patients' files are."

"But, that still doesn't explain why he's in here. He's not crazy, just a little slow."

"No one wanted him. The asylum isn't just for the mad, Wendy. There are hundreds of people in here and probably only one third of them have psychological problems. It's for the debtors and the unwanted citizens just as it is for the mentally unstable. Just like you and me, everyone in here was admitted against their will."

"It's like a prison."

"It's like Hell. I've been here long enough that I know all the terrible things that go on in here. I didn't find the Lost Hallway until I'd been here almost a year, but there are worse things that happen than a stroll down that hall, and they happen everyday. They're practically inevitable."

Wendy shivered. _"What could be worse that the Lost Hallway?"_

* * *

Back in their cell, Wendy and Eliza were instructed to go straight to bed and call on a nurse if they needed anything.

"They treat us like we're children," commented Wendy as she and her friend both climbed into their beds.

"Well, isn't that proper for you?" Eliza said back with a certain tone that struck a nerve in Wendy.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Noodle's file isn't the only one that I've checked up on."

Wendy sat up in the bed and squinted in the darkness to see Eliza looking very smug.

"I've been here only one day."

"Yes, but you're been admitted here for short little visits many times before, haven't you?"

Wendy stayed silent.

"Wendy Maura Angela Darling. Seventeen years if age. Mother, Mary. Father George. Mild disposition with no prior history of violence. Appears acutely delusional with a loose grip on reality. Keeps retelling an old fairytale, under the impression that she experienced it. Possible brain damage but is exceptionally intelligent. True psychological status undefined, but final decision is that the patient suffers from nothing more than immaturity."

"They have a file on me already!"

"They keep everything that goes on in here documented." Eliza paused. "Well, nearly everything. All the notes that the therapists ever took on you were filed and kept in their storage cabinets. I went to check up on you when Bridget told me you were coming this morning. I told you, I have impressive skills," she said with a smile.

"So is that what they said about me? That I was delusional and childish?" asked Wendy bitterly.

"That among other things. I just noted the highlights," Eliza sighed. She turned on her side and looked at Wendy, still up in her bed. "So is it true?"

"Which part?"

"All of it. Any of it."

Wendy relaxed and laid flat on her back, looking up at the ceiling blankly. Should she tell the truth? Should she confess that her story is true? She knew she'd look like a fool but maybe, just maybe, Eliza would believe her.  
Wendy pressed her lips into a thin line. The girl may have been in an institution, but she was no half-wit. Eliza was one of the cleverest people she'd ever met and also seemed wise beyond her years. Wendy might have had a chance for Eliza to believe her had she were telling someone truly insane. Not Eliza, though. She seemed much too practical for that.

"Some of it's true. I did tell stories all the time and then added my own little twists. But I-I just was bored so I thought that... I could make them more interesting if I said I was in them," Wendy explained very clumsily. Eliza either didn't notice the lack of grace in Wendy's delivery or she ignored it. Which ever it was, she appeared to believe the lie.

"I suppose I could relate. That does make more sense anyway."

"More sense? What do you mean?" Wendy said. She breathed a sigh of relief. _"She believed me... but why do I care? So what if I had told her the truth? ...I guess my mind is still outside the institution."  
_  
"I mean, come on, Wendy. A seventeen-year-old girl going around telling everyone she's flown to the stars with a boy who stays immortally young? She had to be either making it up or just flat-out batty."

"Well think of where we are!"

"You're not like normal patients. You're a lot like me. It's not you're brain that's messed up. It's your overpowering sense of excitement and adventure. Some of my best lies were things that either got me in huge trouble or they got shocked responses. I wanted to stir things up, and so did you. I knew you weren't crazy either," Eliza said happily. She sort of sounded relieved. Wendy thought for a moment that she was true in a sense.

"You didn't even consider that I might have been telling the truth?"

"Hardly! That story they noted in your records was way too farfetched to be real."

The soft pitter-patter of footsteps echoed outside the door as a nurse passed the door to peek in and see if the girls were sleeping. Both stopped talking until it faded down the hall.

"I suppose so. I'm going to sleep now," Wendy whispered. She was glad to end the conversation.

"Goodnight," came Eliza's whispered response. They both turned over and closed their eyes.

Tears slowly started to form in Wendy's eyes and slunk down her face and into the flat pillow. Eliza's words burned in her head. **_"They're too farfetched to be real."_**

"_They ARE real. Peter Pan is real. It's true," _she told herself silently.

"**_She had to be either making it up or just flat-out batty!"_**

"_I'm sane! I know what happened. I can't let myself forget! I won't believe that I imagined it!"_

For the first time in five years, Wendy felt doubt.

A few minutes later while Eliza was breathing softly in a sound sleep, Wendy's eyes popped open. Darting around in the pitch black, she felt her heart begin to race when she heard a faint sound from far away. It started out as one single voice, just someone talking. But it soon elevated to a multitude of people all howling their own incoherent sorrows.

It was the Lost Hallway and its self-piteous crying.

"_It is going to take a long time to fall asleep tonight."_


	8. To Remember the Forgotten

Title: Madly in Love

Summary: When Wendy came back from Neverland and started telling people about her experiences, they all thought she was crazy… literally. Can she convince anyone to believe her? And what if they don't?

Author's Note: Just a question to one of my reviewers, kasmira36. What exactly did you mean by my story being tardy? I really had no idea what you meant by that. Please explain if you can.

Please credit Eliza's poem to another writer, Jesanae Tekani, and her poem The Wise Rose. It's totally and completely hers but it's probably my favorite poem and I wanted to include it. But I take absolutely no credit for it.

**REVIEW!**

* * *

Wendy woke the next morning with a terrible headache. She had a very difficult time falling asleep because of the ruckus the night prior, and it was rather wearing.

"Stupid idiots," she mumbled to herself. She groggily sat up and saw Eliza already wide awake and moving about the room. She looked over at Wendy when she heard the older girl stir but said nothing. The modest little clock informed that it was nearly eight o'clock. She had already missed breakfast!

Getting up very maladroitly, she stumbled to the door.

"Don't even try, you've already missed our breakfast this morning," Eliza said, sounding almost bored. She picked up a one of the book that the staff had given to Wendy and flipped through it idly.

Wendy groaned in synchronization with her stomach and Eliza turned to give her a criticizing glance.

"If you want to eat in the morning, you'll have to learn to wake up the first time the nurse hammers on the damn door," she said and then went back to her book. "Journal writing is to start shortly. You might want to fix your hair and rub the sleep out of your eyes before we go."

Wendy did as she was told, despite how curtly and almost spitefully Eliza had said it. It was only her second day here so Eliza shouldn't demand perfection of her. She still didn't understand how things worked around here. Although there was one benefit that Wendy liked: She could roll out of bed and go through her day in just her nightgown.

The glass face from the clock served as the only mirror that the girls had and after Wendy checked her appearance in it, she said, "Let's be off then, shall we?."

* * *

"Welcome to our Journal class, Wendy Darling," the doctor said. She hated having to meet a new doctor for every activity. It made things very confusing. He gave her a pad of paper and an ink pen and instructed her. "Be careful that that pen, Ms. Darling. If you act foolishly with it then you'll lose the privilege. Anyway, this half-hour you're allowed to write anything to your liking. You can write a letter to home, or keep a diary, or write poetry. That seems to be a popular one with this group of patients. It's for expressing yourself. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good girl. Now go and sit down. I think there's an empty seat over by the lamp," he answered, while directing her to a corner seat.

The journal room was held in library and it was nice to start the day in the most pleasant room in the institute. But this time there were a few less people attending that during reading time. Still, a good fifteen or sixteen other inmates cluttered the room. A hum of low voices was a constant reminder that she was surrounded. Eliza plopped down on the floor in front of Wendy like a dog would and leaned over her paper. She had already started feverishly writing like she was straining to keep it in until she was able to get it down on paper.

Looking at her own blank sheet, Wendy thought about what she would write about. She could very well write her parents a letter, but what good would that do? Would they really want to hear about the things she'd already had to endure?

Absolutely not.

She could use the other suggestion and write something of a diary entry, but why would she want her first day documented and kept to remember for all of time? No, she would do something else.

There was, of course, the option of just writing poetry or a story or something of the sort. However, poetry had never been Wendy's strong point. She loved to read it, but writing it was quite different.

She rested her chin in her hand and thought, "This shouldn't be so difficult."

While she was scrounging for any idea to pass the time through writing, she peeked over Eliza's shoulder to see what she had written so far. To her surprise, the girl only had half a page of messy scrawl. Wendy would have thought that she would have covered pages and pages with writing considering how fast and urgently she wrote. She looked closer and read what Eliza already had down:

Black on black, unseen, unknown,  
Growing in a garden lone,  
Seeking out a crypt of bone  
And silent in its seeming.

A simple rose it saw below,  
A beauty it had yet to know,  
Reminding of a land of snow  
With blood upon it gleaming.

And seized by jealous apathy,  
The blackness lingered by the tree  
To watch the rose so silently—  
It dreamed forlorn and bitter.

The rose, it told of many things;  
The symbol of what loving brings,  
A flower to be given wings  
Or borne upon a litter.

The blackness, held in wonder's thrall,  
Implored the rose to tell it all,  
But no more answered blackness' call  
The rose, in wisdom blooming.

In vain the darkness pled and cried  
Only to find the rose had died—  
Nor may a rose forever bide,  
But fade into the glooming.

And so the darkness goes it way,  
Bereft of reason there to stay,  
And nowhere to its burdens lay,  
Nor ever solace finding.

The black-on-black forever flows,  
A soul that only torment knows.  
It seeks the wisdom of the rose  
To loose it from its binding.

"_Why does it seem like Eliza is never happy?"_

* * *

Art was very much the same as the "journal writing" had been. The doctor gave her a brush, pencil, and a paper and told her to be careful or else, and then sent her on her way. And just like the previous class, she did nothing productive.

Wendy seemed particularly lethargic that morning, with no busy thoughts coursing through her head and no stimulating events coursing through her day.

"This place is so… tiring. I'm just so bored," came Wendy's sluggish drawl.

"It's one of those places that move so slowly. It's as if it's in a constant state of gloominess, like a rainy day where all you want to do is sleep," said Eliza. Wendy marveled at her. She was coarse and brusque, but she was brilliant too.

Wendy found her mind wandering while she held the brush in hand and looked blankly at her canvas. Her eyes went out of tune while the fuzzy pictures in her mind took over. She vaguely remembered a night from years ago when things started to change.

_She was fourteen years old, and it was the ending to a very long day of rigorous teaching with Aunt Millicent. She was sitting at her vanity, looking absentmindedly into the mirror and feeling completely bored when she heard a soft knock on her door._

"_Wendy?" came John's voice. "Are you awake?"_

"_Yes. You may come in," she said. Their parents had made it a new rule that anyone wanting to see Wendy had to knock and wait for her consent to open it. John tentatively opened the door and peered in. Wendy smiled and invited him to stop lingering in the doorway and he then smiled and obeyed at once. He plopped on her bed, making himself very at home in her room and she asked him what it was that he wanted. _

"_I was just… wondering something," he answered. Wendy tipped her head to one side, inviting him to continue. He went on. "Do you remember... from a few years ago… Wendy, tell me about Peter Pan."_

_Wendy smiled warmly. "Of course I remember. Don't you?"_

_John face looked confused and strained, like he had tried to remember something that he couldn't. "I remember the name."_

_John had always been the more reasonable and"refined" of the two siblings. He seemed like a boy craving wisdom and status while being too young to truly aquire it. However, in that moment, he looked more like a child than he ever had before. His eyes pleaded for a reminder of the fairytale that he had treasured but seemed unable to reach. _

"_But you don't remember Neverland? Don't you remember the adventure? Don't you remember Tiger Lilly? Anything at all?" she said and John stared at her with no recognition in his eyes and Wendy's face fell._

"_Remind me, Wendy. I can't recall what happened," he begged her as he stood up on his knees on the bed. Wendy smiled sadly at her brother and shifted through her memories for the story that was ever-present in her mind. _

"_I'll always keep reminding you, John."_

_She set down cross-legged in front of him on the bed a started the story she knew so well, that John should have known too. When she finished, she asked him if anything was sparking recognition. He looked embarrassedly at her and shook his head. _

_Michael had forgotten too. The past few months, the boys had started rapidly forgetting everything about their exciting time in Neverland. Soon, the only recognition they had of even Peter's name was that he was a popular character in the stories Wendy would tell. Wendy was the only one who could remember what happened that fateful night when Peter Pan threw them into a high-flying adventure. _

Time seemed to move so slowly it felt unreal, but when art suddenly ended (despite it being and hour and a half long) she was shaken from her day-dreaming into this unpleasant reality.

"Youappear to space out a lot," Eliza said suddenly while she was getting up from her chair next to Wendy.

"Hm?"

"I said you seem to day dream an awful lot. What are you thinking about?" Eliza asked in a voice of genuine interest.

"Oh, it's nothing. We'd better go, though. I don't think Dr. Powell will be very pleased with me if I've late to our first meeting," replied Wendy evasively.

"Dr. Powell has a stick up his ass about something. He thinks he's so high and mighty even though he's just a therapist. He's been here less time than me and he thinks he's the master of the institution. Don't let him intimidate you. He'll twist every word you say around until he thinks he's trapped you into some kind of terrible confession."

"…Thanks… for the advice…," Wendy said, a little taken back. Obviously, there was some kind of conflict between the two of them. From witnessing their interaction after the skittles incident, she could tell that Dr. Powell wanted to control and stereotype Eliza, and Eliza wanted to make everything more difficult for him.

With a few parting words, Wendy departed and headed towards the therapy hall. She had learned the previous day that all the offices for their sessions were in one convenient zone and it helped her find her way when she knew which areas were for her and which ones were not. On her way there, she spotted Noodle sitting on the floor just staring up at the ceiling. When she passed, he just glanced over at her and she smiled warmly. He made no returning gesture and ignored her presence.

"…_Alright then,"_ Wendy thought. _"That was strange. Noodle always seemed more friendly and social than that. No matter, I can't dawdle or I'll be late."_

She rounded a corner and continued on. Noodle waited until she left his hallway then got up and started walking. He strolled down the halls like he knew them by heart and then plopped down in front of a specific door. From outside the room, muffled shouting could be heard as Eliza went flying off the handle about something or other. She always seemed to be in a rage when she talked to any of the doctors.

He leaned the back of his head against the door and started humming a made-up tune while he waited… waited for Eliza.

He was always waiting for her.


	9. A Force to be Reckoned with

Title: Madly in Love

Summary: When Wendy came back from Neverland and started telling people about her experiences, they all thought she was crazy… literally. Can she convince anyone to believe her? And what if they don't?

Author's Note: This is one of the most fun I've ever had trying to write a fic. I'm actually getting a small response to it and it's encouraging. But it's hard trying to find information on the asylums back when Peter Pan was written. I suspect that it's not very different from not besides that they were meaner and dirtier.  
In several different projects I've done, there's been SOME annoying or mean guy named Mr. Powell. His appearance keeps changing, but it's based on a teacher who I _despised_, and it shows in all my writing.

_**REVIEW**_

* * *

The door to Dr. Powell's office closed with a loud click and Wendy stood nervously in front of it and waited for further instruction from the doctor who sat scanning over his pile of papers. Without even looking up, he motioned for Wendy to sit in the chair in front of his desk (the one that Eliza had not soiled). She plopped down, already losing some of her manners, and noted how stiff and uncomfortable the chair was. The couch in Dr. Smith's office was much more comfy and welcoming. 

Dr. Powell removed his reading glasses and set them in the desk next to the plaque with his name on it. He sighed and gave a very unconvincing smile before opening the session.

"Welcome, Miss Darling. You already know who I am so let's skip the formalities, shall we?" he said. "I'll be the one prescribing your medication so right now, we're just going to find out what you need. Sound simple enough?"

"Yes, sir," Wendy answered.

"Actually, it's very difficult. It takes a skilled doctor and a cooperative patient to determine what you need so do not give me any trouble," he said tersely. Wendy narrowed her gaze and he did the same. "You already have a black mark on your record because of the damage in the recreational room."

"If I may, sir, I'd like to clarify that the 'damage' done was an accident. I would never do something like that intentionally," Wendy replied very diplomatically.

"Don't take me for a fool, Miss Darling. I know how these patients are and I know that they will not readily take responsibility, but it's in your best interest that you do not patronize me. Any associate of Eliza Patrick is either someone like her or someone she has swayed to do her bidding. So which are you? The easily manipulated or another bad influence?"

Wendy was speechless. Eliza was not at all exaggerating when she had warned Wendy about this man. Everything he said was calculated and precise, like he knew exactly what he was doing and blew her away with his eerily calm execution. She knew he was attacking her, but she couldn't collect her thoughts in order to form an answer. It was just too fast. He took her silence as surrender and the smug look on his face made her frustrated. She wanted nothing more than to take his pen that he was writing with and stab him with it. Using some amazing self control, she restrained herself and only let her frown display her anger.

"Let me make this clear right here and now at the beginning, I am a force to be reckoned with so don't think that you can win against someone like me. You are not here because you are an esteemed member of society so you will not be treated as one. You think yourself to be very prim and proper but you're no different from the other lying, cheating, murderous inmates that inhabit this institution. I am not here to be your friend; I am here to give you medication so that we can fix you."

This was getting to be too much to handle. She had been in the room no more than two minutes and she was already under fire. Her brows furrowed together and she closed her eyes to try and compose herself.

_"Deep breath,"_ she told herself in her head. _"He's baiting you. It's just like Eliza said, he's trying to get me to lash out and then he'll be able to justify what he's doing."_

The doctor abruptly interrupted her thoughts. "Let's begin."

* * *

Two nearly unbearable hours passed while Dr. Powell interrogated her, and she breathed a sigh of relief when he announced that they were finished. He handed her a slip of paper, directed her to take it to the front desk, and then sent her on her way. 

On her way to the front, Wendy squinted to read the scribbling writing on the paper but the handwriting was so messy that she could only make out one word.

"Psychosis?" Wendy sounded out, and then said thoughtfully, "Hm, I wonder what that is."

But she thought no more of it, because Wendy never seemed to dwell on things (except that one thing) and she walked up to Bridget's desk, glad to see a smiling face. Bridget saw and Wendy and her eyes brightened as she put down her paperwork to socialize.

"Well hello, lovely. What can I help you with today?" she asked as she rested her cheek in her palm like she was having a casual little conversation with a good friend.

"Dr. Powell told me to bring this up here," Wendy said, handing over her small scrap of paper. Bridget took it and looked it over quickly. She smacked her cherry red lips out of boredom and then pushed back her chair. She then bent over and opened a locked cabinet attached to her desk before muddling around inside it. Some clinking and sounds of pill bottles could be heard as she fumbled with the different canisters.

"Hm... nope, not that one... I think... ah ha!" she mumbled and then popped out from behind her desk with a glass bottled in hand. She handed it carefully to Wendy who wrapped her fingers around it tightly so she wouldn't drop it. Bridget fixed her thick-rimmed glasses and then sat back down in her chair. Hands folded on her desk, she leaned over and instructed Wendy, "You're to take one of those at every mealtime, with a good glass of water if you can. Now I know you're a bright young strumpet so I can trust you to not take more than 4 pills a day. Any more than that could be dangerous, do you understand?"

Wendy nodded. She liked Bridget because she was probably the only member of the staff who had an ounce of trust in her and seemed like someone to give her the benefit of the doubt. She would be a good friend in a dark place like the institute. Eliza was smart, resourceful, experienced, and strong but she wasn't cheerful like this young Irish woman could be.

"What is it supposed to do?" Wendy asked as she peered into the bottle and the pills clinked around noisily inside.

"It's just to slow your mind down a tad. You might seem a little tired at first but you'll become accustomed to it in a few days," explained Bridget.

"Ok, well I'd best be getting to lunch. Goodbye, Ms. Vonderbeck."

"Oh please, dearie, call me Bridget."

Wendy smiled. "Goodbye, Bridget."

* * *

The rest of the day seemed endless, but Wendy was finally back in her cell for the night and she'd never been so happy to be going to bed. She'd barely been here at Bloomsbury Institute but she'd already felt like she'd stayed too long. Everything seemed routine already and she went through the motions of the day as she was supposed to, as if she had always done it. She decided that the more feathers she ruffles, the slower her time here would pass and all she wanted was to get this whole ordeal over with. 

After she had taken a pill at both lunch and dinner that day, things started to feel... even more boring. But this was supposed to good for her so she didn't question it. However, she didn't like the affects that the medication was having on her. She seemed to have a new found understanding of time because she suddenly started notice **every** **minute** passing, unlike before when she would often drift off and get lost in her own thoughts. During the reading time, she was more aware of the time than ever before and it went by at a snail's pace as each patient took their turn to read their chapter in a monotone or stuttering voice. Even Wendy had been less than enthusiastic during her turn because of her boredom and sudden lack of energy. Eliza had looked over at her with critical eyes several times during the day, probably wondering why she had suddenly become so lethargic.

That night, Eliza voiced her concerns. They were lying in bed when she all of a sudden asked, "Wendy, what's wrong with you?"

"What are you talking about?" replied a very sleepy seventeen year old after a moment's pause.

"You've been very sluggish most of the day and almost bland to talk to."

"Well thank you very much," Wendy answered, feeling slightly offended.

"I'm stating a fact here," Eliza said dryly. "Anyway, you never told me how your first time with Dr. Powell was."

"Not pleasant."

"Could you be a little more elaborate than **that**?" insisted Eliza, who had now sat up in her bed.

Overcome with annoyance, Wendy snapped, "Could you just shut up so I could sleep? I'm tired and it's been a very long day!"

Eliza said nothing in her surprise, just laid back down and tried to sleep. On the other side of the room, Wendy laid there with her eyes wide open and her heart racing with anger. She'd never been so easily provoked in her life and she knew it was unusual, but she was too frustrated to care.

_"I just need some sleep,"_ she reasoned with a yawn. _"Tomorrow it'll be better. I'm just... so exhausted."_

Sleep finally took her.


	10. Visiting Hours

Title: Madly in Love

Summary: When Wendy came back from Neverland and started telling people about her experiences, they all thought she was crazy… literally. Can she convince anyone to believe her? And what if they don't?

Author's Note: I've decided to answer a few of the reviews that I've gotten so far.

I'm Nobody: Yes, you're the first one. I rather enjoyed your "THIS IS A FLAME" review. I started cracking up (even though I was expecting it). Made my day. And you always send the most helpful reviews. Am I getting better at filling the asylum up? I hope so, b/c I was really trying to listen to your advice. I love you. (P.S.- I might just make Noodle and Eliza end up together just for you. lol… maybe.)

Lisha Lane: Thanks! Glad that you like it so far. Yes, Peter hasn't made his appearance yet. There will be a few little moments when Peter appears but he won't truly make his grand entrance until the end. I'm sorry for everyone who wanted to see him sooner!

Kasmira36: As much as I enjoy a good Peter/Wendy pairing fic, I'm sad to say that this probably won't really be much of one. Let me make this clear- this is a story about Wendy. Partially because my story idea can't have Peter until the end and partially because Wendy got near-to no character development in the 2003 movie. We figured out Peter, but as I was writing this I was still trying to understand Wendy's personality. She's a little trickier than Peter. All that to say, there will be Peter/Wendy-ness in the very last chapter but the fic is essentially centered around Wendy.

By the way, everyone: if you're very good about remembering details then you might want to check out chapter 2 once again because I revised it due to some errors that I recently noticed. Like how in chapter 2 it's snowing and in chapter 3 the sun is shining and it's warm weather. Little things like that and Wendy's condition after her fall. If you never noticed these things (kind of like me… and I freaking wrote it) then pay no mind to what I'm saying. Sorry for the obscenely long Author's Note. :S

P.S.- Tomorrow is the one year anniversary of the start of this fic… Kind of sad that I had a whole year and I've only gotten ten chapters. I'm slow like that.

_**REVIEW **_

* * *

Two weeks… 

It had been two weeks since Wendy's admittance into the asylum and George and Mary were practically sick with worry. Every night, they both stayed up later than normal just wondering how their precious daughter was. George was even worse than Mary. Very quickly, the guilt of what he had subjected Wendy to set in and he could barely live with himself. And every time he thought about his decision to send Wendy to live in that god-forsaken place, it took all he had to keep his composure. More than once, he had hidden in some room in his house and wept for his innocent daughter, who had been accused of something that he knew was false.

'_How could I let that doctor control me that way?'_ he would brood over miserably. _'What a fool I am, for letting him sway my thoughts. I knew Wendy was fine. I knew it was all just an accident. I should be there, not Wendy, for ever doubting her.'_

Mrs. Darling had tried to console him, but Mr. Darling was a sensitive man who would not let himself forget his sins easily. He would often try and hide his shame, but came off more shy than strong. Considering that this sin was not something that only concerned himself, he felt doubly at fault. He loved Wendy, and he had done an unforgivable thing to her.

In front of his many sons, he held his head high so he wouldn't upset them or make them wonder what could be the matter, for then he would have to confess where Wendy really was. Both Mr. and Mrs. Darling agreed that the boys would never know of what was actually going on. All they needed to know was that Wendy was at the "hospital" where she was getting better. In a sense, that was all correct, but the parents were still wary about eavesdroppers whenever they would discuss the true whereabouts of their eldest child.

The doctor had also suggested that Wendy not be contacted for at least two weeks. By then, she would have "become accustomed" to life in the institute.

"_If you see her right away, she'll use her crocodile tears to persuade you to get her out. That's what all patients do at the start," The doctor knowingly explained. "They'll tell you anything to make you believe that they don't belong there. Some make up terrible stories or exaggerate on a few inconveniences, but let me assure you that the Bloomsbury Mental Institute is approved by the government and is not going to harm your daughter in any way. I'll admit that she's not going to like it there at the beginning. But just like when feeding children vegetables, sometimes they don't want what's good for them. So I advise that there be a two week period where she's isolated from you and so that you won't be manipulated by her. After that span of time, perhaps she'll have accepted her confinement in the institute and won't try to plead her way out. After that time, feel free to visit her frequently for she might need that kind of outside contact to keep her feet on the ground, if you know what I mean." _

And the day had finally come when that two week period was over and George and Mary could see Wendy. The first thing Mary did was pack her small purse with little snacks, just incase Wendy was a little malnourished. When George commented that Wendy probably wouldn't be able to receive it, Mary paid no heed and kept them with her anyway. No child of hers was going to go hungry. It wasn't right.

George, on the other hand, was much too nervous to think of anything practical to take to Wendy. He wasn't going there to bring her rations; he was going there to see her condition. That was all he cared about. Practical visits could be saved for later, but this first one would only be emotional. Before he left, he told himself that he was not to let Wendy see him sad because that would affect her negatively and possibly upset her. He needed to act normal so that everything could go smoothly.

Making sure that the boys were to be well taken care of by Nana, they set off in the early afternoon in their coach and eagerly awaited their arrival at the institute.

* * *

Wendy was reading lazily during her leisure time on a small, ugly couch in the recreational room. She had slowly gotten used to concentrating very well even with the dull roar coming from the group of people all around her. She accredited that to that damned medicine that Dr. Powell had put her on. Every day seemed longer, every moment was accounted for. Even her sleep seemed to drag on for more time than necessary. 

The book she held in her hand, _The Iliad_, was the most entertainment she'd known in days. This was definitely a story that she'd have to retell to her brothers. She knew they'd thoroughly enjoy it, especially with a few tweaks that she always tended to add in her storytelling.

"Paris, you coward," she mumbled under her breath, and then she gasped when a hand fell onto her shoulder. She snapped the book closed in surprise and turned to look up at its owner. It was Bridget.

"Better get your nice dress on, dearie. There's someone here to see ya," she stated excitedly. The wide smile she displayed was an obvious sign that even she was bursting with excitement.

"Someone to see… me?" Wendy repeated and then a slow smile spread across her face when she realized who Bridget was talking of. "My family's come to see me?"

"Aye! You're parents at least. I'll have them wait in the library so you three can have a nice, private conversation," Bridget said quietly. "But don't mention the library thing to anyone, yes? They normally make the first visit through a glass wall for protection. But I know ye better than to think that any of you need one of those."

"Thank you, Bridget! You don't know what this means to me!" she exclaimed and then threw her arms around the red-head. A little taken back at first, because this was the very first time they had hugged, Bridget soon returned it but shooed Wendy away so she could get ready.

Wendy didn't quite understand why the young woman was so accommodating to an inmate like herself, but she wasn't about to reject the favors and help that the merry Bridget would offer on numerous occasions. She simply accepted that Bridget liked her, and that maybe one day the secretary would explain why. Until then, she appreciated the trust that Bridget always seemed to have in her.

"Don't keep them waiting, lovely!" Bridget said as Wendy raced out of the room and down to her cell.

"Finally," Wendy breathed.

* * *

When Mr. and Mrs. Darling were greeted by the head secretary at the front, she instructed them to sit in the waiting room while she alerted Wendy of their arrival. Then she quickly returned and escorted them to the library, or what was probably the library because of the shelves and shelves of books lining the walls. The Darlings made themselves comfortable on the sofa before the secretary left them once again. 

"Now when we see her," Mary said in a hurried voice, like she was expected Wendy to walk through the door that instant. "It's probably best that we stay calm, right?"

"Yes, I agree," replied George. Then there was a small pause before George then said, "You're not going to be able to be calm, are you, dear?"

"Probably not," said Mary with a giddy grin on her face. Her husband smiled back, feeling the same way she did. They were both anxious to reunite with Wendy and containment was going to be difficult. However, Mary was always one to show her feelings before her spouse. On top of that, this was her only daughter that she was going to see and it had been lonely in the house being the only female. Even George had to admit that the house felt hollow without Wendy inside it.

So as the excitement bubbled inside the eager mother, the father did all he could to suppress the overwhelming feeling of nervousness and shame. He hoped that Wendy would look well, for both their sakes.

When the door was casually pushed open, two pairs of eyes darted to the entrance to see who it was. And to their joy and relief, it was none other than Wendy Darling in a storm-cloud grey little dress. All ideas of composure flew out the window when Mary leaped up from her seat and rushed to her daughter with open arms. The mother and daughter immediately embraced and Wendy smiled peacefully as she smelled her mother's familiar perfume and felt her warm, loving arms around her. Mrs. Darling bombarded her with a million questions about how she was, what's it been like so far, were they treating here well, has she been getting enough to eat, ect ect. Question after question was thrown at her without even enough time to answer them and Wendy just laughed. She looked over at her father, still seated on the couch. When their eyes met, George forgot all about his guilt and shame and was overcome with the relief instead.

"Hello, father," she said lightly and Mr. Darling go up as well and gave Wendy a firm hug. It was shorter than the one from Mary, but that was so Mr. Darling didn't start getting too emotional. He still had to keep his pride, even in this situation.

Each had an arm around Wendy's shoulder as they guided her back to the couch where they all sat down.

"So tell us how you are, Wendy," said Mr. Darling. Wendy sighed quietly as she heard her father say her name, making her feel like she was back home again.

"I'm fine. Really I am. Things have been rather… slow here, but I can't complain too much," Wendy replied. Of course she was partially lying. She was having a terrible time being cooped up in the institute. And even after she had been promised that she'd be able to go out on outing with the group, she never did get that chance. As Dr. Powell explained it, she hadn't been in the institute long enough to learn how to behave. Wendy had been deeply insulted. He was the man who had told her that she acted so "prim at proper" before. What could have changed? But she wasn't about to tell her parents about how bad things were. No doubt her mother would worry, but her father probably wouldn't have done anything about it.

"Have you been sleeping well? Are they feeding you enough?" Mary interjected, returning back to her motherly questions. She then opened her purse and handed Wendy a muffin wrapped in a napkin that Wendy gratefully took and started eating. She had just finished lunch a little earlier but boiled potatoes and broccoli were no match for her mother's tasty baking.

"Yes, yes, Mother. I'm doing fine here. I'm a little bit bored and a little bit lonely sometimes because you miss you all so much," Wendy said when she finished chewing her bite of muffin. "But I only have a month left. I think I can make it until then."

"Wonderful," Mr. Darling said in genuine relief. Wendy's appearance had seemed normal but he was especially glad to hear from her own mouth that she was doing well.

"Just one question though," Wendy started before taking a considerably large bite of the muffin. "Why did you wait so long to come see me?"

For a moment, neither parent answered while they thought hard to come up with a plausible reason. Finally, Mr. Darling decided to go with the truth.

"The doctor advised us to," he said. "He said it would be best for you to first get acquainted with your new living arrangements and then we could step in."

"But didn't you think I would miss you? Didn't you think I might need to talk to one of you? Didn't you think that I might be scared in a new place like this? Didn't you want to see me?" Wendy said, almost like it was obvious. The further she went on, the more evident the hurt in her voice became. "So you knew, and I had to wait two weeks wondering if my parents had forgotten about me? You could have told me so I wasn't waiting for as visit up until now."

"I'm sorry, Wendy. I had to keep it a secret so as not to upset you," Mr. Darling explained as logically as he could. He actually wasn't quite sure why he hadn't told her in the beginning, but now he was mentally hitting himself with a bat after listening to her reasoning. _'She's right. It would have been better if I had told her.'_

"Don't blame your father, dear," interrupted Mrs. Darling. "It was all very unclear, even to us. You weren't the only one who was a little lost."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean we weren't quite sure if we should send you here but it seemed for the best. The decisions had to be made very fast despite the fact that we didn't know what would happen."

'_She says this like she had to make the decision herself,'_ thought George. He knew what Mary was doing. She was trying to convince both Wendy and him to believe that the choices that were made were the right choices.

Wendy seemed to accept this answer, since she had always been one to try to understand others and see from their eyes. She then popped the last little bit of the muffin on her mouth and finished it off. Mr. Darling smiled slightly as he saw his daughter's features relax in acceptance. The last thing he wanted was for his only daughter to be bitter towards him.

"So anyway," Mary continued. "Tell us how it's been here so far. What do you do here?"

"There's a lot that we do in here. We have times where they teach us social skills like in reading time or tea time. And then they have us 'express ourselves' through writing or art. Then of course we have our free time and our therapy sessions. I never thought that an asylum would have so many activities."

"Well it's not an asylum, sweetheart. It's an institute," Mr. Darling corrected. He both thought it was impolite to call it an asylum and he hated the thought of Wendy being in one. An institute sounded much more bearable.

"No, it can definitely be an asylum sometimes," Wendy said back.

"What do you mean?" said Mrs. Darling this time.

"Some of the patients are just strange, that's all."

"Do they frighten you?"

"Not anymore. I have a few good friends here who always helps me."

"What are their names?" asked Mr. Darling curiously. He hoped they could get onto a pleasant subject and this one seemed good as any.

"Eliza and Noodle."

No one spoke for a beat as both of the adults thought the same thing: What kind of person has the name 'Noodle'?

Wendy smiled in amusement, fully knowing what was going through her parents' heads.

"They're both very nice people. Eliza knows about everything here and Noodle is such a sweetheart."

"We're sure he is, Wendy," laughed Mary pleasantly. George only gave a forced smile. He still couldn't get over the name.

"Maybe one day you'll meet them," said Wendy.

"Maybe so, dear. That would be delightful," Mrs. Darling said and Mr. Darling nodded in agreement.

"How much time do we have to talk?" asked the teenager. "I'm just on my free time now."

"The secretary at the front said until visiting time is over, so probably until your next event."

"Wonderful! I have so much to tell you both!"

"And we'd love it to hear it," answered George. After getting over the first few nervous minutes, he was finally starting to really enjoy being with Wendy again. He missed her liveliness and sunny nature more than he realized and now he was able to relax and just listen to her talk.

Wendy was careful to avoid bad subjects that might worry her family members (like the lost hallway or anything of the sort), but gave an account of everything else that had happened. She felt no shame in telling how much she already loathed that bastard Mr. Powell and her parents just laughed as she told them about how often he had gotten on her nerves.

Time seemed to fly by as she talked and they listened intently to every word she said. Before she knew it, a knock came at the door and Bridget poked her head in and reminded them all that their time was short.

When they said their goodbyes, which included many hugs and several _I love you_'s, they were once again parted and Wendy sighed glumly.

'_And just like before, I feel empty. I miss them so much,_' she thought sadly.

Both adults left feeling cheerful and relieved and Wendy went back to her state of sorrow. She trudged back to her cell and flopped down on the bed, even though she knew that they were going to have afternoon tea shortly. She hated tea time. Everything was just a repeat of her years with Aunt Millicent, and she would have done anything to be able to get out of these extra lessons at the institute.

"I hate having obligations," Wendy said aloud. "I wish I could just sit and do **nothing** if I wanted to. Another thing I miss about Neverland. No grown up duties."

She took a deep breath and forced herself to sit up against her desire to lay there and skip afternoon tea.

'_I wish you would come back, Peter. Give me a chance to escape this again.' _

Once again, her thoughts trailed back to Peter Pan but they didn't linger there long. The confounded medication made her not only more alert and concentrated; it also made her more logical and level-headed…

…and boring.

That's when Wendy got an idea. And without even letting herself have the time to think it over, she went over to the desk and picked up a familiar glass bottle. Then she hurried down to the nearest bathroom as fast as she could. The second she found one and closed the door, she popped open the bottled and dumped out all of the pills into the toilet.

With a satisfied smile, she flushed them away.


	11. The Bloomsbury Tea Party

Title: Madly in Love

Summary: When Wendy came back from Neverland and started telling people about her experiences, they all thought she was crazy… literally. Can she convince anyone to believe her? And what if they don't?

Author's Note: We've finally hit the turning point for Wendy. Up until now, she's just sat back and tried to accept everything. Soon we'll get to see her stronger, more rebellious side.  
Is there anyone else in the world who just hears the word "Math" and bursts into tears?... Yeah well, that's me.

Kiya - Actually, I had originally planned on a happy ending, but I have an idea for a sad one too. It really all depends on how many people want the sad one and how many want the happy one. I'll have a poll close to the end and we'll see how it should go.

tinkerflyinbell1210 - If you noticed in the previous chapter's Author's Note, I said that he will be in it later, but not yet. This is a WENDY fic for the moment. Don't get me wrong, I love Peter... and I'm mildly tolerant of Wendy (ironic that this whole thing is about her) but Peter has his moment in the end.

Thank you to everyone else who reviewed! I really do appreciate them.

* * *

Wendy was filled with an invigorating new feeling -- resolve. As she watched the pills circle down the toilet bowl, she swore to herself that she wasn't going to just survive the institute. She was going to conquer it. Along with her new found sense of determination, Wendy felt like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders. For the first time in years, she wasn't going to be polite if she didn't want to. It had taken her two weeks, but it finally hit her that if people thought she was mentally unstable then she could use that to her advantage.

She smiled and unconsciously placed her fists on her hips, feeling like she had won her first battle at hospital.

And it all started with throwing out her medication. This small act was what she needed all along to unlearn every lesson of tolerance and being passive, as a woman "should" be. She tossed out every thing Aunt Millicent taught her and decided to start fresh.

Starting with Tea Time.

She scuttled down to the tea room and burst in just seconds before the frizzy-haired nurse came to teach. Wendy wondered if she was even a certified nurse, or an old-fashioned mother who insisted on manners classes being taught. Smiling in mild amusement, Wendy sat wordlessly next to Eliza on a dirty-looking sofa.

"What are you smiling at, ding bat?" asked Eliza bluntly.

"Nothing. Nothing at all," replied the older girl as she quickly wiped the smile off her face. Noodle peeked his head out from the other side of Eliza to glance at Wendy and then retreated back behind the blonde.

The manners nurse (Mrs. Edwards was her name) shushed the group before her and called for their attention.

"Today we will be doing something a little bit different. We'll be working on en exercise in serving tea rather than being served it," she said clearly. She went to the locked cabinet in the corner and pulled out several tea pots. Then she lit the stove next to it wither own box of matches (the only way they could keep inmates from playing with the stove) and placed each water-filled pot over a burner. She then went on to lecture about how _noble_ it was to serve tea and every _civilized_ person in England had tea. All the while, Wendy knew she was just filling up the space of time that she was using to make the tea.

"It is an honorable characteristic to be a generous host. And every courteous hosts serves tea," she began as she handed out poor-quality tea cups, spoons, and other necessities for tea time. "And not only women can be hosts. Men too can display their leadership and hospitality through teatime."

Giving out the four pots to random people, she instructed the "hosts" with pots to serve two "guests" of their choosing. Wendy was designated a host and she predictably chose her two friends to be her guests.

"Another thing to remember is to always offer cream and sugar to your guests. Though I myself prefer just plain tea, there are many others who don't and you should always be considerate of your guests' preferences."

"This is such a load of rubbish," muttered Eliza. Wendy nodded with an exasperated sigh.

"Just a lot of hot air," Wendy added. Before they knew it, Mrs. Edwards was standing behind them with her lips pursed into a thin line.

"Eliza, mumbling rude comments is not becoming of a young lady. Serve the tea, Wendy. Don't waste your guests' time," scolded Mrs. Edwards. Eliza glared daggers at the woman and went on whispering every dirty name she could think of under her breath.

Wendy half-heartedly dumped some tea into Eliza's cup then said in a very monotone voice, "Cream and sugar, Ms. Patrick?"

"None," Eliza said tersely, then rolled her eyes at the fact that they were being monitored just for _expressing her opinion_.

Wendy moved on to Noodle's cup and began to pour. But right before the steaming tea hit Noodle's cup, he covered it with his hand. Wendy gasped in surprise as Noodle yelped from the pain going through his hand.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, Noodle!" Wendy apologized. "Are you-?"

"Young man!" Mrs. Edwards interjected. "That was very rude and most ungrateful of you to do that! You should **not** decline your host's hospitality unless you absolutely **mus**t! And even then, you need to decline the proper way!"

Noodle shrunk farther back into the old couch with every word she shrilly spoke and Wendy felt pity for him.

Mrs. Edwards then turned to Wendy and said, "You always ask a guest if they would like tea. Never assume. Now, pour his tea, Wendy."

The girl looked up at her with an incredulous look. "No," she refused.

"Pardon me?"

"No, I will not try to serve him more tea. It's obvious that he doesn't want any so why would I give him some anyway?" Wendy said, getting a little irritated.

"He needs to refuse the right way or gratefully accept his tea."

"Why does it matter _how_ he declines it as long as he's not snobbish about it?"

"Because the whole purpose of this exercise is to learn the correct conduct. A proper guest would not have behaved as such," explained the nurse, nose high in the air.

"And a proper host would force a guest to take tea if they didn't wish it?"

"No, but this isn't about you as a host-"

"Yes it is! I understood him! That's all that matters! And he wasn't at all impolite, he just has a different way of doing things," Wendy fumed. Mrs. Edwards was in shock. Wendy, usually mild-mannered, was never this rash or disrespectful. However, she wasn't about to let this mentally unstable patient teach her.

"Young lady," she exclaimed. "You will no speak to me in that way. It is unacceptable."

With a pleading look, Wendy looked over to Eliza, whose eyes were wide with surprise and awe. She'd never seen Wendy act out the way she just had. In a way, Eliza was jealous that she hadn't thought of it first. She saw Wendy begging her to help so she gladly joined in.

"What's the problem?" Noodle got the message across and Wendy wasn't offended. So I think it's you who shouldn't speak to Wendy that way. Just because you would do things differently doesn't make them wrong," Eliza insisted. Then with a little more venom in her voice she spat, "It's called individuality, _ma'am_."

"This is not a case of conformity, dear girl. This is a matter of manners," rebutted Mrs. Edwards, trying to regain control of the situation. "I would never allow this behavior in **my** home."

"Well then I suppose we won't be having tea at **your** house!" Eliza shouted.

"Good day, ma'am," Wendy said mockingly and then stormed out of the room.

* * *

As Wendy strolled down the halls, her cheeks still flushed from anger and still in a huff, she wondered what she was going to do next. Tea time was still in session but it only had twenty minutes or so left.

"I guess I'll just relax in my cell then wait for my next activity... Reading," she mumbled to herself. She had recently started to know her way around the hospital so she leisurely headed for her cell. She was in no hurry so every time she passed a cell, she peek in the window on the door and see if anyone was there.

A small, old nurse passed her and smiled. Knowing who she was, the nurse wasn't at all concerned about her walking alone in the halls.

Back a ways, she heard a bit of a commotion so she stopped to listen for it. It was just a moment later that two nurses, one male and one female, came trotting down the hall. When they spotted Wendy, looking rather silly with her over-sized nightgown and eyes full of surprise, they ran to catch her. Wendy stood and did nothing until they reached her and the man seized her roughly by the arm.

"Wendy Darling," the female nurse said. "You're coming with us."

"Why? What's wrong?"

"That outburst that Mrs. Edwards told us about in tea time has earned you a day in solitary confinement, authorized by Dr. Edward Powell," the male replied. "We're to accompany you there."

"What do you mean? I raised my voice a little but it was nothing!" cried Wendy, starting to struggle in his grip. The female nurse latched on to her opposite arm and they held fast to her so as to keep her under control.

"That's not the way Mrs. Edwards described it. The decision is final."

Eliza had told Wendy about solitary confinement. A single empty room they kept in the Lost Hallway was used for punishment. For twenty-four hours, they locked her up in a tiny room with no food. Eliza had been put in there several times and she said the only time you were allowed to come out was once for using the toilet.

"Excuse me, I think I deserve a little more courtesy than this," Wendy said, feeling the circulation in her arms being cut off.

"This is nothing to get upset about, Wendy. You'll be fine," the female said.

"This is my first act of simple disrespect. I did nothing terribly wrong for you to justify this," Wendy said coolly.

"Besides the boy who you poured hot tea all over? And the time with the skittles ball? Thanks to you, we removed that game from the institute. And you were screaming your pretty little head off in the tea room," the male nurse responded and his woman associate rebuked him for being so harsh.

"I most certainly was **not** screaming," insisted Wendy. "And the other two were complete accidents. I didn't do them on purpose."

She stopped struggling, hoping that her cooperation would gain her some trust from these two nurses. It did no such thing, just made it easier for them to move her along.

"Please, let me talk to Bridget at the front," she requested. Surely Bridget could help her.

"Mr. Vonderbeck has no authority in this. As we said, we have permission from Dr. Powell."

"_Of course it was him,"_ Wendy thought bitterly. _"It's always him."_

Nothing more was said as Wendy plucked up all her courage to go with them quietly. The less she fought, the less trouble she'd be in.

"_Why did I have to be so careless? Why did I have to be so hot-headed? I never should have even thrown my medication out to begin with."_

All of a sudden, Wendy remembered something. That one word on the medication script that Dr. Powell had written out…

"_Psychosis?" _

For some reason, Wendy was suddenly very curious about what the word meant. Was it the name of them medication? It sounded a bit more like a medical term rather than a medical treatment.

She would have to remember that for later. For now, she needed to deal with the matter at hand.

"I don't understand," she said calmly. "Doesn't this seem a tad extreme?"

The woman (the obviously more soft-spoken of the two) answered. "It's not our choice, dear. It's just one day so you can calm down and clear your head."

"Then why is it considered a punishment?"

"Don't worry. It's nothing terrible. It's to help you," the nurse said with a smile. Obviously, she was just saying anything she could think of to keep Wendy from getting hysterical. However, at least she was making the prospect of being isolated for twenty-four hours seem less horrible.

The man on the other side of Wendy was less compassionate for her, just wanting to scoot her along as fast as he could. Clearly he was there for muscle and the woman was there for comfort. Those were the only kinds of nurses and orderlies in the institute.

Ignoring the urging tugs from the male nurse, Wendy went along with them and took deep breaths to try to talk herself through this.

_"I can do this, okay? This is nothing I can't handle. It's just one day alone. No problem, right? This is nothing. Just my first step is defeating the institute,"_ she told herself. Her own words of encouragement were the only things that kept her from jerking loose and running away just as fast as she could. She wanted to run so badly but she knew it would do no good.

She just bowed her head and let the honey-brown hair fall into her face as she walked.


End file.
